See you, Space Cowboy
by Winged Monkey's Dream
Summary: Discovering a new planet, the Enterprise is caught in a space anomaly. The ship is hurled halfway through the galaxy, while Captain Kirk is accidentally beamed to the planet's surface where he meets a most peculiar scarecrow...
1. A New Dawn

A New Dawn

It was a beautiful and peaceful morning in the O.Z. The second sun had just risen over the horizon. Glitch opened his eyes and looked at an unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? And more importantly _who_ was he? His mind was completely blank. He heard someone move on the left side of the spacious bed. Who could that be? Fear welled up in him, but also curiosity. Slowly, carefully he turned his head.

He was met with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen – probably, since he couldn't remember more than the past minute. "Good morning, sweetheart," the blonde man smiled at him lovingly.

And with that one simple sentence, the pictures flooded back into his mind:

_The control room of the Anti-Sunseeder – he lies on the floor, the blonde bent over him, his worried expression replaced by a relieved smile as he regains consciousness "Good morning, sweetheart."_

"Wyatt!" His tensed body relaxed and he returned the smile directed at him. He was relieved the stranger – who now was not so strange after all – meant no danger, happy to remember those fantastic eyes belonged to his beloved boy scout. But at the same time sadness took hold of him. He had forgotten! Again! It was the same every morning. He was used to waking up not knowing who _he_ was. It had been that way ever since he'd wandered the streets, trying to survive without a brain. He'd never worried about it. Everything would come back eventually.

But how could he _possibly_ forget about Wyatt Cain? The thought alone pained him. He had believed that love came directly from the heart, no brain involved, just like rhythm came directly from the soul. And he had never forgotten _that_. But apparently he'd been wrong… Like that was anything new!

His inner conflict must have shown on his face for Cain put a hand to his cheek. "It's alright," he whispered and drew him in for a long, slow kiss, as if trying to suck the sadness out of his lover.

Wyatt always knew how to heal him. All it took were these three little words "good morning, sweetheart" and everything would come back to him. The words were engraved into his heart, rested there, until they were triggered by an external force. So maybe he had been right about love coming from the heart after all. It was just that, unlike rhythm, love was not a one-way street. He needed another heart coming toward him to activate it.

But why these words? What was so special about them? Why did his mind always have to wake up to the painful memory of the misery in Wyatt's eyes when he thought he had lost him? He knew the answer all too well. Sure, that had been one hell of a day, destroying the Witch and almost dying in the attempt. But most importantly, that moment had been the beginning of _them_.

* * *

Cain had woken him and dragged him to his feet. And for a second, Glitch thought – hoped to be honest – the Tin Man would sweep him up into an embrace. But the other man only shook him to his senses. Right, they had to stop the Anti-Sunseeder. And the only one knowing the code was Glitch – or better Ambrose, or what was left of him in the jar. He couldn't focus, though. The sudden reconnection with his brain was so confusing. There was so much information flowing into him. It felt like Glitch's and Ambrose's mind where battling each other.

They were running out of time and Cain out of patience. He pointed his gun at the brain tank, "Sorry, Ambrose." That was all the motivation Glitch needed. Suddenly epiphany hit him, "The Queen's birthday!" The machine stopped. The O.Z. was safe.

Cain threw his arms around him, drawing him into a tight embrace. His hat went flying. Their mouths clashed together in a clumsy kiss, teeth clicking and noses bumping. But they rearranged their positions and found the right pace to make it a perfect kiss, more capable of expressing the joy they felt than any words could ever have.

Until Cain suddenly broke away, hissing in pain.

"Cain, you're bleeding!" Glitch anxiously examined the wound on the Tin Man's right arm.

"It's just a scratch," Cain grumbled, turning away from Glitch's probing fingers that only increased the pain. He picked up his discarded hat to avoid Glitch's scrutinizing look. "Let's go find the others. I want to make sure D.G.'s alright."

Glitch was not convinced, but Cain just kissed him again and in his case, this kiss was literally mind-blowing, for it made him forget momentarily what they had been talking about. The wound was completely forgotten when they stepped through the door. The two viewers were already waiting for them outside, slightly embarrassed from the sheer flood of emotions the couple radiated.

They found D.G., together with her sister and parents, in the throne room, smiling as brightly as the suns themselves. They bowed to her and she gave each of them a quick embrace, before she moved to introduce them to their new and old queen. The queen took Glitch into her arms, tears glistening in her lavender eyes. "My dear Ambrose."

Glitch was unsure how to react. He knew he had been her advisor, but he had no idea that he had also been her closest friend and confident. So all he could do for the moment was to stand stock-still.

He was glad when D.G. turned everyone's attention to the sight outside the windows, where the suns rose once again over the O.Z. "That's the O.Z. I remember," she said. And as they stood there, savoring the light they had feared to never see again, Glitch's hand naturally found Cain's and he had his second epiphany of the day: this was where he belonged, right next to this man, who accepted him unconditionally, with or without a brain.

Suddenly Cain's grip on his hand loosened and he sagged against him. "Wyatt!" Glitch shrieked, at once remembering the wound in his shoulder that oozed a constant stream of dark red blood. The blood loss had made him lose consciousness. Glitch went into a panicked fit, shaking the unconscious man and repeatedly mumbling his name. D.G. had to hold him back to prevent him from shaking poor Cain to death.

"Raw, do something," she ordered, while she slapped Glitch to get him out of his fit. His fuzzy mind barely registered the next events as he watched the bustle around him while absently rubbing his burning cheek.

* * *

Raw had treated Cain's wound to the best of his abilities. Still, he lay unconscious for three days. Glitch never left his bedside. Though he fell into a fitful sleep now and then and woke up, knowing neither himself nor the unconscious man on the bed, whose hand he couldn't seem to let go of, he knew deep down inside that he would not leave his side. It was his duty to watch over him. And so he just tugged his ragged coat tighter around himself and waited for the memories that would eventually return to him.

The first thing Cain saw, when he finally opened his eyes, was an abundance of brown curls spilled over his chest. He ruffled the hair with his uninjured hand. "Is that any way to treat an injured man?" he laughed.

Sleepy brown eyes blinked up at him. "Wyatt!" He jumped up, just to throw himself right back onto the poor man, burying him in a breath-taking kiss. "Thank the Gale, you're alive," he whispered against Cain's lips, "I wouldn't know what to do without you." His fingers traced the lines of Cain's face as he continued to mumble, "Don't leave me… Can't be without you... Need you… Need you…Ne…" He was caught in one of his glitches again.

"Hey, headcase, Tin Men don't die easily. We're made of steel. I thought you knew that," Cain smiled. His voice brought Glitch out of his fit.

"Damn you, boy scout! You're not invincible, you know?" he sat up and punched Cain in his good shoulder.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Cain surrendered, before the headcase could actually hurt him. He tried to pull Glitch back down into his arms, but with his right arm immobilized by the tight bandages and the painkillers running through his system he didn't have the strength.

And Glitch was not done with him yet. He struggled out of his grip. "You really scared the life out of me! You almost died! And all because of your damn pride that wouldn't allow you to admit that you needed help!"He glared at him and Cain caught another blow to his shoulder. Then Glitch fell silent, sitting on the edge of the bed without moving. He had his head turned away from Cain, the mop of his curls hiding his face.

Was he crying? The thought made Cain's chest tighten. With some effort, he pushed himself up on his good arm, until he sat behind Glitch. He placed a kiss onto his neck and struggled to wrap his arms around Glitch's torso. A scorching pain shot through his right arm, but he did his best to ignore it. "I love you…," was all he could say. And all he had to say for Glitch to relax and sag against his chest, his eyes closed. Teardrops seeped through his long lashes.

For a while, they sat like that, neither moved nor said a single word. The only sound to be heard was Glitch's soft sobbing. When Glitch's tears had finally dried up, Cain led him back down onto the bed, where they fell asleep, one physically, the other mentally exhausted, Cain's arm still draped over Glitch's body. But now he was holding the hand, gently caressing the calloused fingers.

* * *

Cain had to stay in their rather improvised hospital for another week. During the rule of the Witch the former palace hospital had served as a laboratory for her mad scientist, but now that they had either fled or were imprisoned, it was vacated except for one elderly nurse, a good soul that had served the royal family for many years. She had remained, even after the Witch had taken control, to watch over Azkadelia. She'd always believed there was still goodness in the child, though the terror in her eyes was evidence that experience had taught her better. When she now saw the royal family again, united at last, she was glad she had never given up hope and happily renewed her pledge of loyalty to her queen.

'Doctor' Raw checked on his patient every day to make sure the wound hadn't opened or gotten infected, though he seemed satisfied with the healing process. Glitch was always around, helping Cain, who was pretty much helpless with his dominant right hand out of commission, with his daily needs. He fed him, dressed him and even washed him. There were times when he was a little confused about his surroundings, when he'd even attack the poor nurse, believing she was a vicious dragoon trying to harm his boy scout. Yet all she did was to change Cain's bandages, causing the poor man to hiss in pain.

At first, Cain had been embarrassed not only by his own helplessness but by the sudden intimacy. But he soon got used to Glitch's careful ministrations. He always concentrated so hard on every task, desperate to do everything right, especially since he had spilled some soup and accidentally burned Cain's chest. Still, the cute blush that had spread on Glitch's embarrassed face had definitely been worth a little pain. To be honest, Cain actually enjoyed being taken care of. It felt so much like home – a feeling he hadn't felt in what seemed like a life time.

* * *

When they finally left the dark, gloomy hospital rooms, the rebuilding of the O.Z. was already in full swing. The corridors were busy with craftsmen renovating the palace, returning it to its former splendor. All traces of the Witch's reign had been erased. Her evil devices had been destroyed and her henchmen were imprisoned awaiting their trails, unless they had been clever enough to escape in the turmoil following the Witch's demise. A new royal army had been swiftly recruited to pursue these rogue Long Coats and protect the royal family. A provisional parliament had been elected and D.G. had finally taken her position as crown princess.

Two of the most important positions in the new government, though, were still vacant. And that was why the queen had them summoned. She wanted Glitch – or Ambrose as she insisted on calling him – to return to his original position as her advisor. Embarrassedly, he reminded her that, with his brain still locked up in the jar, he'd be of little use to her. But she wouldn't hear of it. She insisted that, after all that had happened, she needed someone she could trust by her side. She also assured him that she still believed in his abilities. Even without his brain, he had played an important part in saving the O.Z. after all. And she promised him she would hire the best scientists and surgeons to find a way to re-transplant his brain.

Her pleading lavender eyes almost stirred memories of the old days, when he had still been her Ambrose, in the back of his mind. Though it was more of a vague feeling than an actual memory. It was a feeling of deep rooted trust and friendship. He wanted to be this man she saw in him. And how could he possibly disobey her? His loyalty to her was unbroken. And thus, he surrendered to her wishes and became her advisor once more.

Then she turned to Cain. Being a former man of the law, he was to be the commander of the regrouped Tin Man. Most of the former officers had either been killed or joined the ranks of the Long Coats when the Witch took over and thus were now imprisoned or on the run. The new troops consisted mostly of the rebels. After their groups had been disbanded, many had come to the city and were now searching for a new purpose. Most of them were still young, though, and they needed a strong and experienced leader.

Ambrose's former chambers and laboratory had already been restored and cleaned and waited for him to move in. Most of Ambrose's possessions had outlasted the long years of his absence. The rooms looked just the way he'd left them years ago, or at least that's what the queen had told him when she showed Cain and him to them. Still, they felt foreign to him. He had hoped that being surrounded by his books and inventions, being able to touch them, would bring back his memory. But there was nothing, only cold and impersonal chambers that were too big for his liking and lacked color. He was glad he had Cain with him to hold onto.

* * *

Upon inspecting his troops Cain was glad to find his son Jeb was among these young officers. After the Witch had been defeated, he had returned to the forests with his rebel group and Cain had already been afraid that he wouldn't see his son again, when they had finally been reunited. He had already made plans to go searching for him, once his wound allowed it. But now everything was going to be fine. Their family would finally be together again.

But living together after the long separation was not easy. While time had been standing still for Cain, locked in his Tin Suit, reliving the same moment over and over again, Jeb had grown into an independent young man. At work, they made a great team. There, they had a clear hierarchy to follow. Cain was the commander and Jeb would follow his every order.

At home though, things were different. Jeb had definitely inherited his father's stubbornness and with no ranks separating them they constantly got into fights. Without the uniform, Jeb became once again his little boy to Cain. He wanted to protect and guide him, but he also expected his rules to be followed. Jeb though, without his father, had had to grow up fast. When his father was put into the Tin Suit, he suddenly was the man in the family. He was the one who had to protect his mother and he was also the one who, in the end, had to bury her. He was not used to anyone making decisions for him and felt that his father wasn't taking him seriously.

In the beginning, they still tried to control their tempers. They thought they just had to get used to each other again. But there always remained that gap between them they just couldn't bridge. And the better they got to know each other, the better they learned to drive each other up the wall.

Whenever they had one of these arguments, Cain would take his hat and spent the night at Glitch's.

And when he returned in the mornings, he felt guilty, like he was betraying his family. He hadn't even told Jeb about his relationship to Glitch yet, couldn't bring up the courage to do it. It was like he was tarnishing the memories of Adora.


	2. Only the Lonely

Only the Lonely

Jim sat in his captain's chair, bored and still a little tired, since he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Their current mission was an easy one. The Enterprise was to chart a sector of the galaxy that previous explorations had deemed uninhabited by any form of intelligent life. This was an entirely uninteresting mission. But Jim was actually kind of glad about it. After the stressful events of the past months where nearly each of their diplomatic missions had turned into a nightmare, the crew could more than use a little down time.

Since there was nothing to catch his attention, his mind slowly drifted off. He idly watched Spock bend over his scanner, absorbed in its readings. His gaze fell upon the dark green hickey that the collar of Spock's uniform didn't fully cover, and his mind went back to the memories of last night when he himself had put it there. He still had trouble processing what had actually happened and the unnecessary detour he had taken to get there.

* * *

It had been a year since he had become captain of the Enterprise and Spock his first officer. Since then a deep friendship had developed between the two of them, just as the old man had predicted back in that cave on Delta Vega. They made a great team on the job, each filling in for the lacks of the other, and Jim trusted Spock with his life. He had already had plenty of chances to proof himself worthy of that trust, after all. And even off-duty Jim enjoyed Spock's company and spent more and more time with him, up to the point where he almost spent more time with Spock than with Bones.

But with the increased time they spent together, Jim had also become awfully aware of Spock's presence - his handsome features, the well-toned body, the elegance of his movements and the soothing melody of his voice. Spock was definitely an attractive man - from a totally heterosexual, aesthetic point of view, of course.

After all, Jim had a reputation to live up to, being the greatest playboy on the ship. He could have any woman he wanted (well, alright, except for Uhura maybe, but that was a whole different story. With her being that much into alien cultures, it was only natural - or logical, as Spock would say - that she had chosen him over Jim. Or at least, that's what Jim liked to console himself with) and was rumored to have a fling with an alien lady on almost all the planets they'd been to.

Which, granted, had been true in the being of their five year mission. On almost every planet they visited there seemed to be some princess or ruler's daughter with big eyes, long legs and usually little clothing who fell for him after one gaze into his crystal blue eyes. Those combined with one of his patent smiles and they were over the moon.

At first, he greatly enjoyed their attention. He'd always been rather proud of his reputation and now he gladly added further notches to his bedpost. But those were only short-lived romances, as they were passing by on some remote planet he would most likely never visit again, and he soon grew tired of this game. It was always the same: a fling, nothing serious. Here today, gone tomorrow. Just the way he liked it. But lately he felt that something was missing in his life. He just couldn't pinpoint what it was. And these flings only seemed to add to that sense of emptiness. And thus, after a while, he stopped going for it at all. It just wasn't worth it.

Of course, he would still flirt with the ladies. It was just too funny watching Spock's reaction to his 'illogical' and 'for a starship captain inappropriate' behavior. Sometimes, when he was flirting especially hard, he even imagined he could see a small green blush in the tips of his ears. He truly enjoyed provoking emotional reactions from his usually stiff first officer.

Not that that was his main reason. Experience had shown it was always useful to have an ace up your sleeve. When negotiations with the ruler of a planet didn't go as planned, it was always good to have his daughter wrapped around his finger to help push her father in the right direction. And when the missions went seriously wrong and they were locked down in a cell, in the worst cases ready to be executed, the ladies would be his final joker to somehow bail them out. Still, he no longer got any further involved. It was just his way of diplomacy.

* * *

When Bones noticed this change in his behavior, he'd actually confined him to sickbay to check him over thoroughly, fearing he might have contracted some rare alien disease that would eventually kill him. And from the expression on his face he was only half joking. Though, to his relief, he couldn't find anything amiss.

But then, what the hell was wrong with him? Only six month ago, he would've gladly been the challenge cup for all female officers star fleet had to offer, as long as he got laid. They sure as hell were all interested from the way they kept beaming at him. The Narada incident had made him quite a star in the fleet. Yet, those girls seemed to be more after a trophy fuck to brag about to their friends than show any real interest in him. And James Kirk would not take part in that! He didn't want to be a trophy. Truth be told, he could barely muster the interest to return their flirtations. They only left him feeling exhausted. He wanted something deeper, someone who cared for him for who he truly was… but wait, did that mean he was finally growing up?

The only times he didn't feel like an empty shell were the nights he spent playing chess with Spock. He could see behind that larger than life image Jim had built up around himself. He knew all of his faults and never hesitated to call him up on them. At first, he thought the Vulcan was looking down on him, but as their friendship grew, he realized that was Spock's unique sense of humor, and he greatly enjoyed their little banters. Spock saw the real James T. Kirk and apparently respected him no less for what he saw there.

* * *

"What the devil's wrong with you?" Bones drawled over his drink, snapping him out of his thoughts. They were sitting over a bottle of Saurian Brandy in the doctor's office – Doctor's orders! He just couldn't bare Jim's broodings anymore. He had a theory about what was wrong with his patient and now he had to confirm it. When Jim didn't answer, the doctor continued, "Whatever happened to you? No more ladies, no more fun… all you ever do is hang out with that tight-assed Vulcan of yours. I'm afraid one of these days you'll turn into a hobgoblin yourself!"

"He's not _my_ Vulcan," was his only answer.

"Oh, so you _did_ hear me? Talk to me, man. I'm seriously worried!" Bones prodded.

"It's nothing, okay? I just… look… I've being fooling around ever since I was old enough to know what that means – damn, maybe even before that. It just seems time for me to change. After all, I'm a Star Fleet captain now. I got responsibilities," he gestured helplessly.

A grin split the doctor's face at that. "Aww, look at you! My little boy's all grown up! Daddy's so proud of you!" He raised his glass.

Jim rolled his eyes.

"No, honestly", McCoy sobered up, "I'm glad to hear you're trying to clean up your act. And I understand that you still need to adjust to your title and the responsibilities it ensues…" He let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. "And here I was afraid you might have gotten yourself hooked up with that green-blooded bastard…"

"What did you…?" Jim asked, but his friend was already attending to his Saurian Brandy,pleased with himself and no longer listening.

But that last comment had stirred something in Jim's slightly alcohol diffused brain. Bones couldn't possibly be right, now could he? He _did not_ have feelings for Spock. That was totally ridiculous! Sure, they made a great team, always knowing what the other was thinking. And Spock had become one of his best friends, and whenever he was around Jim felt more at ease, more…complete… but that absolutely _did not_ mean he wanted to rip off Spock's always prim uniform and see him all flushed, boring that intense dark glare into him and… okay, time-out!

He got his act together long enough to say his good-nights to Bones, before nearly running out of his office. The other man was so absorbed in his drink by now, he just waved him off, unfazed by his strange behavior. Once the bulkheads had closed, he raised his glass again and muttered, "Always glad to help. I only hope you can figure the rest out yourself."

* * *

Jim spent the rest of the night turning this new idea around in his head, too giddy to sit still for so much as a second. Once it had been started, there was no denying it. He did have a major crush on his first officer - which was all together insane, considering the circumstances. It wasn't as if he'd never been with another guy. Befitting his reputation as a sex god, he was open to pretty much anything and had experience with whatever one could or couldn't imagine. But Spock was totally different. He couldn't possibly return his feelings.

Jim was pretty sure that Spoke and Uhura had broken up some time ago. He'd heard rumors about it, though there was little visible change in their behavior toward each other. Except for that one time in the transporter room before they had beamed onto the Narada, their interactions in public had always been strictly professional. Only the vibes between them seemed to have somewhat changed, cooled off maybe.

He'd meant to talk to Spock about it on one of their nightly meetings. He just couldn't find a way to breach the subject, fearing the Vulcan would be offended by his prying into his private life. He also had a feeling that Uhura was the only one Spock had ever even been with. Vulcans were not exactly known for getting into casual relationship, after all. And she was pretty much female, thank you. The chances for him suddenly going for his very male captain would be nil. And even if there was the slightest chance that he _did_ have feelings for Jim, he would never ever admit to them, being a Vulcan and all.

After hours of pondering, Jim was, in fact, convinced that Vulcans must be against the very idea of homosexuality itself, since two men being together could hardly produce any offspring. Which would render the entire relationship illogical.

When dawn, or at least the artificial increase of light that was supposed to simulate dawn on the ship, approached, Jim could feel a head ache building up, after his mind had been running off at him at warp 6 for the past hours. He felt depressed and defeated. Yet, he also felt relieved. At least he had figured out what was wrong with him. And even though he knew that this was never going to work out his way, he was James T. Kirk after all and he did not believe in no-win scenarios. He would find a way to get his feelings across to Spock – even if it killed him. At least he'd have nothing to regret then.

* * *

That had been four months ago. Since then, Jim had tried every method to get Spock's attention he could think of. He'd started with subtle little flirtations. He'd throw in his secret weapons, his baby blue dreamy gaze and his irresistible smile in all of their conversations, be it in their quarters or on the bridge – to no avail. So he came on a little stronger, flirted more blatantly, but that only got him glares from Uhura who seemed to be the only one to realize what he was up to.

"Don't you dare play your petty little games with him! I don't know what you're up to, but I swear, if you hurt him, I'll end you… Captain!" She'd cornered him in the privacy of the turbo lift after another of his flirt attempts had failed and he had to retreat to recover from the defeat. He knew from experience how fierce she could be and not to take her threats lightly.

"Interesting," he thought to himself. Why would she be so worried about his motifs when Spock didn't even show the least reaction to his flirtations? Did she know something he didn't? That stirred a spark of hope inside of him. He would not give up easily and she would definitely not stop him! "Lieutenant. The only game I intent to play with Mr. Spock is called chess. And I don't believe you have any right to interfere with what we do in our leisure time. Dismissed!" And with that he left the turbo lift, before she could come up with a retort.

After Uhura's little reprimand he was convinced he was on the right track with Spock. There was just no other explanation for that outburst of her protective instincts. Spock had to have some feelings for him. He just wasn't ready to admit to them yet. He decided he had to be bolder in his approaches.

Next he went for physical contact: a slight brush of their shoulders when they walked next to each other, a hand on his shoulder as he leaned over Spock's console, a brush of their legs under the table at the nightly chess games. He knew he was taking a risk there, aware of how avers Spock, being a touch telepath, was to coming in contact with others.

And in the beginning, he actually did grow rigid every time Jim got too close and tried to avoid the contact, until he eventually started avoiding Jim whenever he could. He even cancelled a few of their nightly meetings, and Jim spent some sleepless nights, fearing that he'd gone too far, and their relationship would regress to a strictly professional one again.

But after a while, he returned for their daily game like nothing had ever happened. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed what was on his mind. He no longer shied away from the contact, though he didn't search it either. He just seemed to have grown accustomed to Jim's all too human displays of brotherly affection and things went their usual way.

Slowly, Jim grew frustrated. Spock couldn't seriously be this dense about his advances. But he just wouldn't show even the tiniest of reactions. He gave him no hints at all. And Jim just couldn't muster up the courage to just come clean and confess to Spock. After all, he'd never actually done anything like this before. This whole dating and being in love thing was new to him. And Spock's cool, neutral demeanor didn't make it any easier. His determination was beginning to falter. He considered admitting defeat.

* * *

The ever worrying doctor was already on his case, seeing his gloomy expression and fearing a serious depression behind it. One night, he stood before Jim's door with another bottle of their beloved Saurian Brandy. Jim let him in and fetched two glasses from the shelf, before he joined the doctor at his desk. "This isn't a social call, is it?" he grunted as he sagged into the chair. He really wasn't in the mood for this now, though the alcohol was very welcome. He couldn't help but eye the bottle.

"You know, I should've become a bar tender. The only time you ever talk to me, is when I'm serving you a drink," McCoy replied, interpreting his look correctly and handing him a double.

Jim stared at him, disbelieving. He just shrugged, "You look like you need it." And after a pause he added sternly, "Now, spill it!"

"I really don't know what you want from me. I'm perfectly fine," Jim tried weakly, knowing he was on a lost cause, denying his problems in front of his best friend.

McCoy raised his 'don't bullshit me' eyebrow. "Fine – my ass!" he grumbled. "Look," he sighed. "I know you've been mooning over the hobgoblin for months now and I just can't watch it anymore."

Jim choked on his drink. "What? How did you…?" he coughed.

"Oh please, everyone knows by now. Even Chekov can see something's off and the kid's not exactly a whiz when it comes to these things. Remember the last time we had one of these sessions? Why do you think I dropped you that hint?"

Jim blinked at him disbelieving. All the anger and frustration he'd been building up over the past weeks was raising to the surface now. "So you knew all along? Well, thanks a lot, man! I could've needed some help here! I'm about to drive myself crazy over this!"

"Hey, I really don't like getting stuck up in your love life and you know that. We've been there. You're a grown man – a self-proclaimed sex god. I thought you could handle this alone, once I pushed you in the right direction. How was I supposed to know that you'd turn into a school girl all of a sudden? What's wrong with you anyway? You've never exactly been the shy type…"

Jim sighed and rubbed his head. "I don't know… it's just… this is different… I can't mess this up…what if I scare him off the ship? I… _we…_ need him!"

"Oh my god! You're really serious about this. And here Uhura threatened me to better keep an eye you, thinking you just wanted to get into his pants." McCoy had to smile in spite of himself.

"I wish it was that easy…" Jim sounded defeated. "Wait! You talked to Uhura about me? And you both agreed I was just after his ass?"

"No, like the good big brother that I am, I defended your honor. I just had no idea you were _this_ serious. I've never seen you like this before." The doctor scrutinized him.

"I know. I hardly recognize myself." A weak smile tugged at Jim's lips. "I know I have to work this out. I just don't know what to do. I need him by my side, even if it's only as my first officer."

The doctor leaned over the desk confidentially and put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Look, just talk to him, get things straight. There are only two outcomes: he either accepts or rejects you. But at least you'll know and don't have to work yourself up over him like you do now. And if it actually shouldn't work out, you know where to find me. My bar is always stocked."


	3. Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

One night, after an extraordinarily nasty fight, even by their standards, Cain didn't go straight to Glitch's, like he usually did, but went to a bar first and got himself real wasted. When he knocked on Glitch's door, he was barely able to keep himself upright. As the door opened, he slurred a "Heyy sweeedhaad", before collapsing into Glitch's arms, almost tripping them both. With an effort the smaller man managed to stabilize the drunk and lead him to the bed, where he crashed face first into the pillows.

"Did you guys get into another fight?" Glitch asked sympathetically, as he stroked his blond crop.

All he got for an answer was a deep snoring from within the pillows. Glitch sighed.

* * *

He was always glad to have Cain over in his chambers. He still hadn't gotten used to them. On his own, he felt lonely and depressed. He had hoped being around Ambrose's belongings would help him regain the memories of his former life, reconcile him with the man he had once been. But there was nothing. Ambrose still felt like an entirely different man to him. How could anyone possibly live in these dull rooms? There were no colors in them, no life, only dusty books and half-finished inventions whose purpose meant nothing to him. He'd tried to lighten the gloomy atmosphere by painting the walls in bright colors. He added brilliantly colored curtains and tons of plants. They did little to ease the stuffy atmosphere, though.

Yet, he just couldn't bring himself to throw out Ambrose's things. He might not be able to understand any of them, but deep down inside he still felt they were a part of him. He just couldn't connect to that part. Sometimes, he would look at something and feel a memory rise from the depth of his mind, though they were always gone before he could get a hold of them. And every time, this almost remembering would leave him feeling even more depressed than when he remembered nothing at all. Being surrounded by mementos, whose secrets he could not unlock, left him unable to breathe. He felt trapped in this golden cage of devices he had no use for.

He almost missed his old life out in the wild. At least there no one had expected anything from him. He was free to go and do whatever he wanted. And no one would take much notice of a pathetic headcase crossing their way. Here at the palace though, people were constantly staring at him and gossiping about him. And whenever he had one of his fits in public, they would make a huge fuss about him. He didn't need their _help_, their _pity_, didn't _want_ it. He was no lesser man just because he was lacking his brain.

That's why he used to spend most of the time, when the queen didn't request his presence and Cain was on his duties, walking the palace gardens with D.G., who always tried to get away from her studies with Tutor that should prepare her for her future responsibilities. She was probably the one who understood him best. She too missed her old life in Kansas. She missed the freedom of cruising on her bike through the vast corn fields, without a thing in the world to worry about. Now she had to wear stiff dresses and learn even stiffer etiquette. She often told him how trapped she felt. He knew that feeling all too well and the two of them would make up plans to escape from their prison that were never put into action, though.

* * *

Only when Cain came over to visit him at night, did his chambers truly feel like home to him. The colors seemed brighter, the shadows of the unknown less frightening. Every night, he would wait giddily for Cain to arrive and brighten his day. The only problem was that more and more often these days, when Cain arrived at his door, he was in a bad mood.

Granted, there were people who would claim the Tin Man was always in a bad mood. But Glitch had always thought Cain's gruffness was kind of adorable. When he escaped from his fights with Jeb though, he was gloomy, brooding. He was mad at Jeb, he was mad at himself and, most importantly, he blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong in their lives. Then Glitch had to muster up all the cheerfulness he could to lighten his mood, which was becoming harder and harder the longer he was trapped in here. It was as if he was imprisoned in a tin suit of his own. It was exhausting.

And Glitch was always glad when the feisty Tin Man had finally calmed down and he could sink into the strong arms of his boy scout that would protect him from anything, but were always so tender with him. Cain's lips, his touch made him forget everything around him, though not in the usual frightful way, but in ecstatic oblivion. He surrendered completely to the pleasures only they could give each other.

But eventually, morning would come and take the Tin Man away from him. The feeling of security he had given him throughout the night slowly faded away like a dream in the morning suns. Once again, he was left feeling lonely and incomplete. And his daily routine of anxiety started all over again.

He was so tired of this. It had to stop! Things couldn't go on like this. He wanted Cain to always be around him, and he wanted him to be happy. Watching Cain sleep off his buzz he made a decision: he would pay Jeb a visit.

* * *

The young Cain was rather dumbstruck when he opened the door to be met by a sheepish smile and sparkling brown eyes looking at him from under an unruly mop of curls.

"…Advisor Ambrose…" He hadn't seen the man up close since the day in the rebel camp when they were still fighting the Witch. And even then they had hardly talked to each other. Suddenly confronted with his father's lover he hadn't even been properly introduced to yet, he didn't know how to react. Of course, he knew where his father went whenever they had one of their arguments. The palace was a rumor mill after all, and they had been _the_ topic of the staff's gossip. He didn't hold it against his father, though.

He knew how much he'd loved his mother, but she had been dead for a long time now and for his father it was even longer since he'd lost her. He also knew he still tormented himself over her death. And although they constantly were at each other's throat, he still loved his father and wanted him to be happy. But why would Ambrose be at his door in the middle of the night - especially when his father had left hours ago? Then realization hit him, "Did anything happen to my father?"

"What? No! Yes? Did anything happen to Wyatt?" The unexpected question left his mind in a turmoil. What was he even doing here? Wherever here was…

Jeb looked at him worried. "Are you alright?"

He ushered him into the living room and placed him in the chair his father usually sat in. Then he rushed off to get a glass of water. When he held it out to him, Glitch only looked at him questioningly. "Do I know you? Name's Glitch, on account of sometimes my synapses don't fire right…" His smile was radiating and those chocolate colored eyes were big enough to get lost in them. Jeb could almost understand why his father would be so attracted to this man.

"Yeah, I know who you are," was all he could come up with.

"You do?" Glitch seemed even more at loss. You could almost hear the cogs in his head working. Then his memories returned. "Right… you're… this is… Cain's…"

"Right. About my father…" Jeb's patience was wearing thin. He slumped into the chair opposite Glitch's.

"You resemble him a lot, you know that?" Glitch marveled. "Especially the temper."

"Is he alright?" Jeb insisted, ignoring Glitch completely.

"Sure… I think… probably…" Glitch mumbled, still a little out of it.

Jeb lost it. Before he knew what he was doing he'd already slapped Glitch. "I'm sorry!" He clapped his hands over his mouth in shock. Great job, Jeb! That's the way to treat your father's lover!

"Thanks… just what I needed. As I said, the two of you really resemble each other." He rubbed his burning cheek, smiling again. "Your father got himself pretty drunk. He's at my place sleeping it off."

"Yeah. I figured as much. It's not exactly a secret where my father spends his nights." A crooked smile spread on Jeb's face. He was relieved to hear his father was fine. But then what did this strange guy want from him in the middle of the night?

Glitch misinterpreted his reaction, "Right. I'm sorry. We should have long since talked to you. You must be disgusted with our relationship. But you have to believe me I never intended to take your father away from you – or your mother. I know how much he loved her – and still does for that matter. This situation isn't easy on him either. He never meant to hurt you. He loves you a lot, even though he's not good at expressing himself…" As always when he got nervous, Glitch was rambling and pulling at his torn sleeves.

"No, you got me wrong!" Jeb felt embarrassed by this blatant display of emotion. He was a Cain man after all, and they were never good at dealing with emotions. "I know all this. And I really don't have any problems with you two being together. I only want him to be happy. He deserves it."

Glitch's worried expression brightened again. "Have you ever told him?"

"We… we don't talk about such things." Jeb still felt embarrassed. He couldn't even look at Glitch.

"Maybe you should." Glitch took Jeb's hand. His sparkling eyes bore into Jeb's. The boy looked at him shocked. "You know, your father would never admit it, but I can see how much your constant fighting is troubling him. It's eating away at him. That's also why he won't tell you about us. He's afraid it's only gonna broaden the gap between the two of you."

"It's not that easy…," Jeb was fidgeting in his seat, "talking I mean. No matter what we talk about, we always end up biting each other's head off. We're like fire and ice clashing together."

"You're more like ice and ice," Glitch corrected him. "You're both hardheaded and way too proud to admit it when you're in the wrong."

That stirred a memory inside of him, of when he was about seven, and he and his father had been arguing about whether or not he was old enough to go hunting. His mother had been scolding them like they were some quarreling brothers. He felt his heart warm more and more for that unique man. "That's just what my mother used to say. My father and I have been fighting for as long as I can remember. She always had to mediate between us. She would say I was just like him – a tin man and a tin boy."

"So it must be true then, if your mother and I have both observed it. I think what you need is a new mediator," Glitch offered carefully.

Jeb thought about it for a moment. The palace rumors were wrong: this man was definitely a lot wiser than they gave him credit for. He already liked him. Maybe Glitch was just the addition their little family needed to heal their wounds. "Like you," he smiled.

"Like me," Glitch returned the smile conspiratorially. "And I already have a plan." And thus, they plotted their little scheme.

* * *

The next morning, Cain woke up with a terrible hang-over thundering through his skull.

"Good morning, sunshine," Glitch smiled at him way too brightly for his sensitive eyes. His only replay was a grunt, until the smell of coffee hit his nose. Glitch held out a cup of fresh coffee and some aspirin. "I love you, sweetheart." Cain pulled him in for a kiss. Then he snatched the coffee and the pills and swallowed everything in one big gulp.

The coffee and a nice long shower had finally restored him to a nearly human state. The stern look that answered him, when he looked into the mirror to shave, told him that he should apologize – or at least talk - to his son, before they had to leave for their patrol. And the clock told him he'd better hurry, if he wanted to make it in time. "Sorry headcase, gotta hurry," he called from the bathroom. But when he opened the door, Glitch was already waiting for him, dressed to go out, and held Cain's hat and coat out to him. Cain looked at him questioningly.

"I'm headed in the same direction, so I'm coming with you," he beamed.

Cain looked at him suspiciously. "What's wrong with you?"

"What happened to your boy scout syndrome?" Glitch pretended to be scandalized. "Streets aren't safe these days. Won't you protect poor weak me?"

"Weak? You?" Cain snorted. "Twinkle-toes, since when are you afraid of a little street fight? Or are you trying to protect me?"

Glitch didn't answer him, only looked at him with an unreadable expression. Oh, whatever! He was just too tired to play games. He rolled his eyes. "Let's go," he grumbled.

Glitch gave him a peck on the cheek and they left the room.

* * *

They arrived at the apartment that had been assigned to the commander of the Tin Man, and Cain asked, "Where are you headed anyway?"

"We're already here," Glitch grinned, and before Cain could grill him any further about what the hell was going on, the door opened and his slightly nervous looking son greeted them.

Once inside, Cain's temper got the better of him, "Would one of you fill me in already? What's going on here?" He paced the room. Glitch took his hand and pulled him down onto the couch next to him. They told him everything about the discussion they'd had the previous night and also about the plan that had emerged from it. Cain listened to everything as calmly as possible and for the first time since their reunion, or maybe even before that, father and son had a nice long talk to clear up all the misunderstandings between them. Granted, there had been a few times when they were about to go for each other's throat. But as he'd promised Jeb, Glitch was there as an arbiter to talk some sense into them, whenever the need arose, and guided the discussion back on a more reasonable track. He was able to mend some of the ties between them that had been severed and, given time, he was sure to fix the tensions between them, until they could have a normal father-son relationship. This ability secured him a place in their odd little family. He couldn't and would never dream of replacing Adora for any of them, but at least he could substitute her to keep the family together.

It was decided. Cain would be moving in with Glitch and Jeb would keep the apartment. They would still be working together and could have a drink together whenever they wanted to, but each would have his own space to live his own life. That was sure to help take some of the strain from their relationship. Distance was what they needed most, if they ever wanted to become closer again.

It also solved another problem. With Cain moving in with him, Glitch no longer had to feel lost and lonely in his ridiculously huge chambers. He didn't have to wait anxiously anymore, unsure whether Cain would show up at all. Having a loved one there to share his rooms would finally make them feel like a real home to him. Maybe the dust of his past could settle now, the voices in his head, telling him he was incomplete, would quiet down and he could start his new life – not as a shadow of Ambrose, but as himself, goofy yet reliable Glitch.


	4. Check Mate

Check Mate

Last night, he'd suddenly had the best idea in all history. He was still pondering about his talk with Bones and his suggestion to simply come clean and didn't really pay much attention to the game. He was already about to lose the second game in a row.

"Jim? You seem distracted tonight. Maybe we should adjourn our game," Spock said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

Jim looked up at him. The way Spock used his first name always made a shiver run through his body. And suddenly, an idea struck him like lightning. "I've just been thinking. This game is getting a bit boring, don't you think?" he asked, looking Spock straight in the eye. His blue eyes sparkled with an intensity they'd been lacking lately.

Spock looked taken aback. He straightened up, seemingly unsure what to do. "I apologize. I was not aware that our meetings were no longer satisfying to you. Maybe I should retire for the night. If you will excuse me," Spock said, as he got up.

Uh-oh! This wasn't working too well. He had to find a way to pique his curiosity. "No. Wait. That's not what I meant. Sit back down. I only wanted to suggest a little… change of rules." Jim couldn't suppress the smile tugging at his lips as Spock's straight shoulders relaxed minutely.

"May I inquire which alternative of the game you are referring to? I do not believe I am familiar with any differing interpretations of the rules of chess," Spock said, raising an eyebrow, giving away his curiosity. Yes! Jim inwardly patted himself on the back.

"Oh, I'm sure you haven't heard of it before. It's an old earth tradition…" And here he was really taking risks, he was aware of that. If this went wrong, he would have ruined things forever. But he just couldn't stop himself, "It's called strip-chess…"

"Strip-chess…?" And Spock's eyebrow gravitated even further towards his hairline.

"Yeah. You know, every time you lose a chess piece, you take off a piece of your clothes. The last one with his panties on will be the winner." Jim had expected Spock to be embarrassed and find some kind of excuse to hastily leave his captain's quarters. Probably even send his request for transfer to head quarters immediately. Instead, he saw a spark in Spock's dark eyes that went beyond his usual curiosity. 'Don't get your hopes up just yet. You're probably just imagining this,' Jim tried to calm himself, before he got too excited over this small success.

"And you honestly believe that undressing in the progress of the game will benefit your concentration?" Spock asked. And the slight change of his tone combined with that spark in his eyes convinced Jim that his first officer was, in fact, only feigning innocence and playing on him. He could almost see the smirk hiding in his words. He was definitely interested. He just would never ever admit to it. But two could play at that game. Now he got him. Just you wait and see.

"It's worth a try." And he flashed Spock one of his trademark grins.

* * *

So they settled back into a new game. Nothing much had changed from before. Jim was still losing piece after piece. His tunic and undershirt were already tossed to the floor right next to the discarded boots. The difference, though, was now Jim was losing deliberately. He wanted to provoke a reaction from Spock and he was not being disappointed.

Spock could barely take his eyes off the play of the muscles of Jim's chest, while he licked his lips unconsciously. His stoic Vulcan mask was crumbling away as he lost his focus. His breath was hitching, and his hands shook slightly whenever he moved one of his pieces, no longer really caring where he was putting them. Any strategy, he might've had, forgotten at the display presented to him. Just what Jim had been hoping for. And all of a sudden, the tables had turned, and Spock was the one losing piece after piece of his clothing, until he sat there in nothing but his underwear that did very little to cover the bulge of his growing erection.

Jim was having trouble himself focusing on the game in front of him, while he took in the sight of his slightly disheveled first officer. His brain was just too preoccupied memorizing every inch of the fair skin presented to him. He would've never dared to even dream to ever get the chance to see this. Suddenly he was painfully aware of his pants stretching tightly over his own hardening cock.

Finally, Spock made his last wrong move, giving Jim the chance to steel his queen. Which also meant he had to take off his last remaining piece of clothes!

When he got up to do so, he was back to his usual calm self again. He showed no embarrassment or self-awareness as he presented himself to his captain. Nothing in his demeanor, as he fully undressed, indicated any of the arousal he'd been showing before - except for his member standing at attention just like him, his hands folded calmly behind his back as usual. The trace of a smile played around his lips as he fixated Jim.

Jim on the other hand was totally stunned. His brain had melted. This was more than his starved senses could take. All he could do, was sit there open-mouthed, gawking at the display Spock was showing him.

"Captain, I believe this means you have won the game. My congratulations", Spock informed him. "I did not imagine that your bending of the rules would in fact improve your game. But apparently I was mistaken."

Still, all Jim could do, was to stare at Spock and he had a feeling, he stared hard enough to leave actual marks on the delicate skin in front of him. He could neither move nor speak. His mouth was as dry as a Vulcan dessert. "If I am not mistaken, it is also an earth custom that the winner gets to make a wish." Looking him in the eye, Jim could've sworn, he saw a smug grin trying to take over Spock's features. That sneaky bastard was actually playing on him – _him_! – and enjoying himself royally. Oh, he'd get him for that!

That finally drew Jim out of his shock state. And before he'd even realized it, he got up himself, wrapped his hands around Spock's neck, and drew him in for a long, passionate kiss. Jim's tongue found Spock's lips parted, inviting him in where he was met by the Vulcan's hot tongue, just as eager to explore as he was. They battled for control, until Jim had to pull away for some much needed oxygen.

That drew a small growl from the Vulcan, and in one smooth move he slid across the table to sit right in front Jim, scattering the forgotten chess board and pieces across the room in the process. His legs encircled Jim's hips, their groins pressed together. He could feel the heat emitting from the Vulcan's skin. "…I…" Jim tried to say something, anything, though the puddle that used to be his brain had no idea what. And apparently Spock didn't want him to talk anyway, as he put a finger to his lips, and the look in those dark eyes clearly said, "Shut up!"

So he did the only thing that came to his fuzzy mind: he sucked in the finger that lay on his lips, his tongue mapping out every inch of it until it was fully sheathed in his mouth, which elicited a deep moan from Spock, making him scoot forward and rocking his hips to gain some friction. And it also reminded him that Jim was still in his pants – an error that had to be corrected immediately.

He retracted his hand from Jim's mouth, who had started sucking on the second finger since Spock seemed to obviously enjoy it. He fumbled a moment with the fastenings of the stubborn pants. And Jim took the opportunity to dive in for another scorching kiss, before he helped him get rid of the offensive piece of cloth.

His finger drew patterns onto the hot skin while he licked along the outlines of Spock's ear, lightly nibbled at the green flushed pointed tip. When he drew back a little, he was met with Spock's gaze, and his eyes silently pleaded with Jim to give him relieve. He would've never believed his first officer could look this vulnerable. That was all the motivation he needed. He took Spock's hand, wrapping it around both of their cocks, closing his own hand over Spock's to direct him into a slow stroking rhythm.

As their speed increased, Spock threw his head back in ecstasy, baring his throat to Jim, who took to chance to kiss along Spock's jaw line to his neck. He sucked in the soft skin there and carefully bit into it, watching a small green flower blossoming, and decided to plant some more along his collar bones and onto his chest.

Jim knew Spock was almost there, when his grip around their cocks strengthened until it got painful. He drew in a sharp breath. Jim used one hand to remove the tightly clenched fingers, while the other continued the steady rhythm. He led Spock's hand to his mouth, licking at the mixed tastes of the both of them on Spock's palm. Sucking at his fingers again and grazing his teeth over the knuckles, finally send Spock over the edge, and Jim followed only a few strokes after him. Spent and happy, Jim leaned heavily onto Spock's shoulder.

* * *

"Is this all you have to offer?" the Vulcan whispered into his ear after a pause, sending shivers down his spine.

Jim looked up grinning. He leaned in to suck the barely visible sarcastic little smile off Spock's lips. "Let's move this to the bed…"

Before Jim had even finished speaking, Spock had already dragged him to the bed and pinned him to the mattress. And now the ever stoic Vulcan was straddling him, his eyes gazed over with lust. He was actually touching himself, one hand working himself open to receive Jim, while the other stroked his again hardening member.

At the sight, Jim's brain froze again. He couldn't process what was happening. All he could do, was stare and burn the pictures into his memory, just in case he didn't get a chance to see this a second time.

A hand grabbed his chin, tilting it up to meet Spock's eyes. "Focus!" he ordered in a husky voice, drawing Jim out of his daze, and dove in for a long kiss. Jim returned the kiss, deepened it. He wrapped his hand around Spock's dick, stroking him in a slow rhythm. Spock rocked his hips with Jim's strokes. Then his movements suddenly came to a stop. "Wait…" he moaned, breaking their kiss.

Spock steadied himself on Jim's shoulders to lower his body onto Jim's throbbing cock. And then Jim was sheathed in the melting Vulcan heat.

And as they moved their bodies together in perfect unison, Jim felt so complete and he knew this was what he'd been searching for. Never had he seen anything more beautiful then when this rigid Vulcan statue began to fall apart to his touch, completely surrendering to him. They came at the same time, collapsing onto the mattress.

* * *

Before he could give in to the tiredness that was rolling over him, Jim said, "Please, don't tell me I could've had this all along?"

"What are you talking about?"And he could hear the wicked smile in Spock's voice.

"This! Us! You _did_ notice I've been flirting with you for months, didn't you?" Jim returned exasperated.

"Of course, I noticed the change in your behavior. And even if I had not, Nyota warned me early on that you were up to something," Spock returned evenly.

"Right, I remember. She actually threatened to kill me or something." Jim shivered slightly.

Spock placed a hand on his chest and started rubbing small circles into his skin. "I would not have allowed that to happen…" His eyes gleamed with amusement. "But I had to make sure you were not acting on one of your whims again, that this was not one of your infamous games to challenge my emotional controls. So I waited to see how long it would take you to tire of this game. You did not give up, though. I have to admit I am quite impressed with your patience. Your previous behavior showed you usually tend to act impulsively and purely instinctively. And thus, I estimated it was time to reward you for your patience," Spock explained in his usual lecturing tone, but traced his fingers over Jim's lips. He bit into them to stop the embarrassingly precise analysis of his character.

Realization washed over him. Yet, he was too relieved by this turn of events to actually get mad for having been fooled all this time.

"So all this time you were testing me?" Jim rolled them over and pinned Spock to the mattress. He glared at him threateningly, their faces only inches apart.

"Yes," he confirmed, wriggling his arms out of Jim's grip.

He just couldn't believe this man's impertinence. "You know, you're not Pavlov and I'm not your dog," Jim said, smiling, and before Spock could lapse into the inevitable lecture about how unfitting that comparison was, since Jim was obviously no canine, he stopped him with a mind-bowing kiss.

"I should've known the direct approach would work better with you," he mumbled between the feather light kisses he placed all over his face.

"Why did you never apply that strategy?" Spock's hands traced his spine, before he threaded his finger through Jim's hair.

He had to bury his face in Spock's muscular shoulder to hide the blush that burned in his cheeks. "I was terrified of scaring you off," he admitted.

He was rewarded with one of those telling eyebrow raises. And even though he couldn't see it from his position, he knew it was there. "I never believed you to be a coward."

"Shut up!" Jim was embarrassed.

"Is that an order?" Spock was actually mocking him. He looked up at him speechless. He would've never imagined him capable of that. But so far, the night had proven there was still a lot he had to learn about this mystery of a man. He cuffed him lightly in the ribs. But Spock was unimpressed. He only tightened his embrace to stop Jim from further assaults.

Caught in that snug embrace Jim decided it would be better to just surrender and let him have his way, at least this time. He snuggled closer and took in the sweet scent of Spock's skin, like cinnamon. For a while, they lay in silence, just holding each other.

* * *

"How long?" Jim broke the silence. Spock looked at him questioningly. "How long have you been interested in me?" he smiled shyly.

"A while," was Spock's unusually vague answer.

"Commander, I expect you to be more precise," Jim probed, struggling against the Vulcan's strong grip to sit up.

But Spock never answered him nor did he let him go, just traced his hands over Jim's cheekbones and drew him back in for another longing kiss. He hooked his legs around Jim's waist and off they went for round three. The night seemed to go on forever, between kissing and caressing and charting each other's bodies. Jim hoped morning would never come. He didn't want to leave this bed ever again. And anyway, how could he possibly face his crew when he couldn't wipe off the wide grin that spread on his face?

* * *

Jim must have fallen asleep somewhere along the line. When he woke up he was in high spirits. He hadn't felt his great in what seemed like ages. Last night seemed like a dream to him. Being encircled by that cozy body heat had been like coming home. And from now on he would have that every night. But why did his bed feel so cold now? Jim sat up in his bed and blinked around him.

Spock was gone. There was no trace of him ever having been at Jim's quarters. The mess they'd made in their haste to get into each other's pants last night was cleared. Even the chess board was set up on the table again like nothing had happened. Only the lonely black king lying at the foot of his bed was evidence that last night had been more than a feverish dream. He picked it up and turned it in his fingers.

All of a sudden, his good mood was gone. The sarcastic little voice in his head chimed in, wondering why Spock had just stolen out in the middle of the night. With that one thought, all the insecurities he'd developed over the past weeks were back to haunt him. So maybe to him this had been a life changing experience. But he had no idea what Spock thought. Maybe he'd just been curious about Jim's behavior and now that the experiment had been completed successfully and his curiosity satisfied, there was no need to repeat it. Or he had, after all, decided that this affair had been the worst idea ever. Or…

No, he wouldn't jump to conclusions again. He would get dressed now and go to the bridge and do his job. And Spock would be there, and everything would be alright. And once their shift was over he would talk to him. Problem solved!


	5. Let me help

Let me help

It didn't take them long to move all of Cain's stuff – which wasn't much to begin with anyway: mostly work-related files, some clothes, weapons and a box full of mementos, that went unopened into the depth of a closet – into Glitch's place. When everything had been unpacked and stored away, the couple sat in front of the fireplace enjoying the warmth and quiet, tired but happy. All around them, Cain's belongings mixed with Glitch's, giving the rooms warmth and life, they'd been utterly lacking before. It created a sense of home they'd both been missing dearly before. They looked around the room, as if they had never seen it before, taking it in with new eyes. This was it: _their_ home. An excitement like that of newly-weds settled between them.

Cain turned to Glitch, bringing their foreheads together. "You know, I really need to thank you, sweetheart." And he stole a kiss from those adorable sweet lips. Then he suddenly pulled back and poked a finger at Glitch's chest, bringing a distance between them. "But you didn't really think I would let you off the hook this easily for ganging up on me with Jeb like that, now did you?" he threatened.

The convict crawled toward him lasciviously. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tin Man?" he purred. The fire reflected in his dark eyes viciously.

But Cain didn't fall for his seduction. He only sat there unmoving, his Tin Man poker face set. "We'll see about that," he said dryly.

The headcase sat back on his heels and tilted his head in confusion. Had he done something wrong? Was Cain actually mad at him? But everything had seemed fine after they'd talked things over… Panic mixed into his confusion.

Glitch's panicked fidgeting was just too adorable. Cain couldn't hold back a laugh.

And then it finally dawned on Glitch: he'd fallen for Cain's little scheme to get back at him. "You…!" He threw a pillow at the other, yet had to laugh himself.

When the laughter had died off, Glitch went for a second attempt. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around Cain's neck, whispering into his ear, "Did you know there's a tradition for the first night you spend in a new home?"

The Tin Man raised a questioning eyebrow at him, eager to learn more about that idea of Glitch's. "No…"

But Glitch was already lost in the depth of his icy blue stare, his thought process interrupted. "Me neither…," he laughed shyly.

Cain didn't have the patience to wait for whatever fantasy the scatterbrain might've had to return. This scarecrow in his arms, smelling like apple pie, was just too delicious. "I think I have an idea." Before the headcase could even react, Cain had already gotten rid of his uniform jacket and the vest and was making short work of the buttons on his shirt and his beloved striped undershirt. Glitch melted into the touch as his lips explored the finally revealed skin of his collar bone, shoulders and down his chest to his beltline. Glitch sagged to the floor. His hands tucked at Cain's shirt, but his thoughts were too incoherent to undo the buttons. Frustration showed on his face.

"Shh, let me. You just enjoy the ride," Cain smiled, as he pried Glitch's hands off his shirt, kissing them as he did so. He then hurried to get rid of his own clothes and returned his focus to Glitch's remaining pants. He slid them down, kissing the tender skin along his thighs. The smaller man writhed underneath him, as he sucked him in and started pumping in a slow rhythm, while his fingers found his opening, messaging it, stretching it to receive him.

Glitch was no longer capable of speech. He only gave off soft moans. But with time, Cain had learned to read his body language. And his dilated pupils and the way he slung his legs around his torso told him he was ready for him, waiting for him to take him.

In the beginning of their relationship, he'd been worried sick whenever Glitch would go all silent on him. But Glitch had explained that was only his brain not being able to process all these sensations streaming into it at once. And if he was honest, Cain actually enjoyed driving his headcase to the point, where he was no longer coherent enough to continue his constant blabbering. Of course, he loved him, but he loved him even more when he shut up for a change.

He readjusted his position between his thighs, slinging the slender legs around his hips, and thrust in deep. Glitch may not have been able to express himself verbally, but wrapping his arms and legs around Cain's broad torso, his agile body was well capable of communicating his every wish. He directed Cain to move just the way he wanted him to. "Rhythm comes directly from the soul," the Tin Man remembered, smiling fondly, before he sealed Glitch's lips in a long kiss, as they rode over the edge together.

They were spent and just too tired to move. So Cain simply pulled a blanket from the nearby sofa and wrapped them in it, as they got comfortable in front of the fire place. He hugged Glitch to his chest and buried his face in his unruly curls. Their legs entangled. And Cain fell asleep to Glitch absently caressing the scar in his right shoulder.

And thus, the couple had created a tradition for moving into a new place. Not that they needed it, since they had no intention of moving ever again.

* * *

Living together hadn't solved all of their problems though. Glitch still woke up every morning not knowing who he was, not to mention the smoking hot blonde lying next to him. The Tin Man didn't mind the situation too much. To him it was like their morning routine to jog Glitch's memory with his usual "Good morning, sweetheart". The easiness with which he was able to unlock those memories was proof to him of the special place he held in Glitch's heart. And the joy that spread over Glitch's features, as recollection set in, was just priceless and never failed to warm the Tin Man's once so cold heart.

To Glitch on the other hand, his forgetting always seemed like a betrayal of their love. And every morning when his memories returned to him, his joy was bittersweet, always tinged with frustration and sadness. He was afraid that one day Cain would grow tired of his headcase and just go off and leave him. He couldn't stand that thought. He needed Cain to anchor him in reality. He finally had a home, where he was being loved and he was afraid of losing that security.

And then there was the cold world outside his secret haven. After month of living there, he should've been familiar with the palace. But the never-ending intersecting halls were still a maze to him. He constantly got lost. And he always felt so embarrassed, when one of the maids – or even worse – one of the ministers found him wandering the same halls over and over again, either unable to find his destination or having all together forgotten where he was headed. And of course, they would always feel obliged to help him. He didn't need help. He was a grown man. And sooner or later he'd find where he wanted to go – okay, maybe it'd rather be later. But what did it matter? Time was relative anyway. He didn't need a babysitter. He was fine on his own – he'd always been.

* * *

And not to forget his job: Advisor to the Queen – what a bad joke that was! How could he be her advisor when no one in her staff was willing to talk to lest work with him? To them he was nothing but a hindrance and should have never been given such a responsible position. Just what had the queen been thinking making a retard their superior?

Except for the queen, D.G. was the only one who'd actually seek his advice. But she was in a somewhat similar situation. She too still hadn't gotten used to the palace and the mores of the royals, and so she too was a constant target of the ministers' spite. Also, she was still trying to regain all the memories from her childhood. She didn't remember the great Ambrose. She had only a vague idea of what he'd once been capable of. To her, he was just her clumsy, oblivious friend Glitch, whom she could always trust and rely on. She didn't expect any miracles from him.

The rest of the palace was different, though. They still remembered the aloof and brilliant advisor who could solve any problem. And now that they were trying to restore the O.Z.'s former glory, they had more than enough problems, and they relied on 'Ambrose' to find a solution. When the queen restored him to his former position, they'd expected his brilliant mind to have been restored as well. But they soon had to realize that the genius, they had known, was gone. He wasn't Ambrose anymore, and there was absolutely nothing _Glitch_ could do to help with the great problems of ruling a devastated country.

When he and his friends had still been on the run, fighting the reign of the Witch, he could shine with the street knowledge he'd gathered over the years – knowledge that had been engrained in his body rather than his mind. Yet, being back at the palace, he was faced with economics and politics and most of the time, he didn't have the foggiest notion what those ministers were talking about. He tried his hardest to do his bit, to no avail. In the end, it would only lead to one of his glitches and all he could do was to hide behind a smile, mortally embarrassed. They hated his goofy grins and his clumsy attempts to help them and, with time, started ignoring him all together. They gossiped behind his back, and it didn't take long for voices to be raised to set him down.

Even the queen had to admit he was of no use to them. Still, she insisted on keeping him as her advisor. He had always been at her side, since the day she'd become queen, and in these hard times she needed him more than ever. And even if he wasn't of much use in solving the greater problems the O.Z. was facing, she drew strength from his presence and cheerfulness alone. For her that was enough to keep him in his position, and anyone who wanted to argue the matter with her, could find themselves a new position. She tried to make him understand that he still had a purpose. Yet, he felt helpless and grew more and more frustrated. He felt like only half a man. And from the looks the others gave him, he could tell they thought exactly the same.

* * *

Only Cain could make him feel whole these days. To outsiders he might have seemed insensitive whenever he met Glitch's episodes with his dry blend of humor. But Glitch loved him all the more for doing just that. Just like he had when they'd first met, Cain would poke fun at his headcase, they would squabble some, while Glitch tried to defend his own clumsiness, and then they would just laugh it off. It was their routine and it helped Glitch keep his dignity, made him feel like a real man who could stand up for himself, instead of those pitiful looks others gave him, whenever he was glitching again, that made him want to hide in the darkest hole he could possibly find, and never come out again.

But he couldn't rely on Cain alone to keep him from falling apart. He had to stand on his own. He wanted to feel whole again and he didn't care whether that was as Glitch or as Ambrose. He had to reconnect his past with his present. He needed his brain back, but the doctors the queen had hired – the best in the O.Z., she'd promised him and, judging from their fees, she had to be right – so far had given him little hope that there would ever be a way to re-install his brain.

Well, if _they_ didn't find a way, he would have to find his own way. He had once been a brilliant inventor after all. And thus, he spent more and more time in the control room of the Sunseeder where his brain was still imprisoned. Raw was always with him to establish a telepathic connection between the two. All his memories were locked away in that jar, and Glitch hoped that, if he, with Raw's help, could extract them from his brain, they would become his own memories again, filling the void in his head. It had worked before, after all, back when Raw had extracted the memories of the Sunseeder from his subconscious. He'd never forgotten about it again – except for the periods, of course, where he could remember nothing at all.

It didn't work so great this time. He could access his memories as long as Raw had him hooked up to the jar and his brain. But as soon as Raw broke the connection, everything was gone. Yet, he wouldn't give up that easily – he couldn't. Maybe he just had to try harder. And so, their lessons in the control room grew longer and longer, but still to no avail.

Glitch hadn't told Cain about any of this. He didn't want to worry him. The Tin Man already had enough on his plate worrying about his son and protecting the royal family from the Long Coats that still roamed the forests around Central City and terrorized the peasants. He shouldn't have to worry about his headcase's silly little identity crisis on top of it.

* * *

But of course, Cain sensed something was wrong. He could see it in Glitch's eyes, whenever he returned from his meetings with the queen and her ministers, that he claimed took longer and longer these days. The cheeky spark in his eyes was gone. He looked exhausted and defeated. His bright grins and crooked smiles had become a rare good. He was unusually still. He talked less and less and retreated into himself. He barely ate anything, and every time Cain embraced him, he seemed to have lost weight again. And more and more often, he found ways to avoid his touch entirely. The Tin Man hardly recognized his beloved cheerful scarecrow in that hallow doll with the dead eyes.

At first, he didn't want to question the headcase about it. He would talk to him eventually, when he was ready - hopefully. But as the weeks passed and his condition worsened rapidly, his boy scout instincts kicked in. If Glitch didn't want to talk about it, fine, he wouldn't pressure him, but a police man had other ways to get his answers. Naturally, he had heard the nasty gossip going around the palace. Starting from there, it didn't take much to figure out what was wrong with his sweetheart. Nor did it take the Tin Man long to find out that Glitch no longer participated in most of the cabinet meetings. He still fulfilled his duties to the queen, but as soon as the first ministers arrived, staring at him condemningly, he would quickly take his leave not to be seen again.

That had Cain worry. The question now was: where did he go then? He certainly didn't come home. D.G. too said she'd hardly seen him lately. Not even the queen knew what the headcase was up to all day. That only left one more option – Raw. The viewer was missing as well, though… and the Tin Man could think of only thing those two could be plotting together.

And indeed, he found them in the Sunseeder tower, just as he had suspected. Raw had Glitch connected to his brain, and he mumbled something about an invention he'd once made. Both of them looked strained and exhausted. Sweat stood on Glitch's brow and he was even paler than usual.

Cain's chest tightened at the sight. Anger boiled up in him – anger at the world for treating his sweetheart like a lesser man, anger at himself for not being able to protect him from it, and anger at Glitch for keeping this from him. He wanted to yell, to destroy something. But he stopped himself in time from doing any of it. Instead of just bursting in there like he badly wanted to, he decided to first cool his head and confront Glitch when he came home.

* * *

When Glitch opened the door that evening, he found Cain sitting in the dark in front of the fire place, a serious expression on his face.

He looked up. "Come here," he said toneless, pointing to the chair opposite his.

"What's wrong?" Glitch slowly, nervously approached him, playing with the loose threats of his ragged coat sleeve. The queen had provided him with a new wardrobe. But it was useless. In his clumsiness, he tore one uniform after the other.

"I know it," Cain began, the light from the fire catching in his eyes, as he looked up at him.

Glitch's knees gave way, and he sagged into the chair. "I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned ignorance, avoiding Cain's eyes.

The Tin Man took his hands and, police man that he was, presented him with his evidence and theories. "I'm right, aren't I? Why didn't you tell me yourself?" he ended, hurt evident in his voice.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to worry you… it's just… I had to do this myself," Glitch began and explain to Cain his predicament the best way he could – which was more of a confused rambling, interrupted by several glitches. But Cain understood him anyway, constantly messaging his hands to reassure him and anchor him in the present. He himself was surprised he could actually find the patience to listen this calmly, when he had been on edge all day.

"What about those doctors the queen hired for you?" Cain suddenly realized that Glitch had never told him anything about any visits with these oh so brilliant surgeons. Had he ever been to see them?

Glitch sighed. "They say there's nothing they can do to help me." His sad brown eyes looked into Cain's blues, searching for understanding and comfort.

What he found, though, was anger. The anger, he had been carrying around all day, had finally found a target he could vent it on. "I bet they say that!" he grumbled.

Then he suddenly got up, kissed Glitch on the forehead right beneath the zipper, took his hat and coat and went to the door, leaving a perplexed and scared Glitch behind.

"Wyatt? ...what? …where?" he stuttered, his voice almost breaking.

"Don't worry, sweetheart! I'll be back soon, bearing good news," he said and his grim expression implied an additional 'or some heads on a silver platter…' The door opened, and off he was.

Glitch spent the next few hours pacing the room. He had no idea what his boy scout was up to. He could only hope it was nothing stupid, or violent, for that matter.

Finally, he was so exhausted he curled up in front of the fire place and fell into a fitful sleep.


	6. Into the Grey Gale

Into the Grey Gale

When he arrived at the bridge, Spock was already busy at his station. He was once again the professional and stoic first officer Jim was so used to see by now. Nothing betrayed his thoughts about the previous night when he greeted his captain. Jim felt his spirits sag again, though he had to admit to himself that he couldn't have expected anything else. What had he imagined? A passionate kiss in front of the entire bridge crew? Moony glances in his direction? This was Spock, after all. Jim had to smile at his own foolishness and suppressed the suspicious little voice inside of him. And yet, a knot formed in his chest.

He got comfortable in his captain's chair and watched his crew. They were all busy at their stations, engrossed in their work, and no one paid their captain any attention. They were flying through the vastness of the universe, and it was one of the rare occasions where nothing required his attention. For once, there were no failures in the ship's systems, no alien decease spreading among the crew, no unknown power controlling anyone, nor had the sensors picked up anything unusual – yet… Experience showed that was only a matter of time. But for now, Jim was actually left with nothing to do.

Idly, he watched Spock bend over his scanner, absorbed in its readings. His gaze fell upon the dark green hickey that the collar of Spock's uniform didn't fully cover, and his mind went back to the memories of last night when he himself had put it there. Spock continued his work, unaware of his captain's stares or his dirty memories. Jim could still taste the sweet yet slightly coppery taste of the Vulcan's skin, could feel his lean but firm body writhe under his touch.

The little voice took over again. He couldn't help but wonder if this had been a one-time experience. He'd been dreaming of this for month, and now that it had finally come true, he was not willing to let go of it ever again. But what about Spock? Last night he seemed to be feeling the same. And sure enough, he would've never allowed it to happen, if he didn't. Spock definitely wasn't the type for one-night stands, or was he? Then again, Spock had surprised him more than once last night. And he didn't seem as inexperienced as Jim would've imagined him to be. In their hot, breath-taking embrace everything had seemed so clear, so simple. But now in the cold daylight Jim felt confused and insecure. After all, Spock had just left without a word this morning. Jim knew the drill. He himself had done this countless times: enjoy the ride and then steal away in the breaking daylight. No attachments, please. But this was different, right? He'd wanted this for so long, never believing it could actually come true. And now that it had, he was afraid of losing it again.

His mind was going in circles. He wanted to go over to his station and embrace Spock, suck another bruise into his neck – anything to make a connection. He'd sworn to himself this morning that he would wait until the end of their shift to have this conversation. But he was about to go crazy. Right now all he wanted was to drag Spock into the turbo lift and get an answer straight from his body. He needed a reaction, a sign of what Spock was thinking of their little affair.

…when he noticed the slight green tinge to Spock's ears. And was he actually fidgeting in his chair? So Spock _was_ aware of him. Jim had to grin to himself. He felt relieved. And there he'd been worrying all over again. Just what was that green-blooded bastard doing to him? This man would sure be the end of him. He should talk to Bones about this. Maybe he could prescribe something. Then again, he'd probably hypo him into a coma for dragging him into his school girlish boyfriend problems. His mood lightened ever so slightly. Tonight, Spock would definitely pay for making him go through this. And he would pay good… A devilish grin spread across his face.

* * *

An alarm signal went off, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Captain," Sulu's voice brought him back to reality. He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat, pushing his kinky revenge plans aside. "That planet right ahead of us isn't supposed to be there. It's not registered in any of our maps."

"Sure you didn't get lost, Mr. Sulu?" the captain teased.

"Absolutely, sir!" the helmsman answered dryly.

"Interesting. I guess that means we should have a closer look," Jim grinned, "Mr. Spock, your analysis?"

Their eyes locked. It took Spock a second to catch himself. "The planet is M class, the third in a binary solar system, captain. Gravitation and atmosphere identical to earth," Spock reported.

"Life forms?"

"There are several humanoid life forms at various stages of development. All are pre-warp societies. The most advanced one is at the technological level of earth in the early twentieth century."

"Alright. Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu. I want to know more about this planet." His eyes sparked with lust for adventure, and he could feel a rush of adrenaline wash over him, as always on the prospect of encountering entirely unknown species. "Mr. Spock? Care to join me for a little exploration?" he asked with a wink.

Spock was less excited though. "Sir, we should wait for further data from the scanners, before we decide what to do. We do not know yet, if it is safe to beam down to the planet's surface."

"Aw, come on, Mr. Spock, I can see you're just as curious as I am to seek out the mysteries of this planet that isn't even supposed to exist." He was smiling, but the determination in his eyes allowed no opposition.

So Spock followed behind the captain, as he strode to the turbo lift. When the doors opened, he called over his shoulder, "Mr. Sulu, you got the conn."

* * *

When the doors closed behind them, Jim didn't give any order for the lift to move. Instead, he looked at Spock sternly, arms crossed. It was time to turn the tables. He'd worried himself sick all morning. His head was still spinning from all his ponderings. Now Spock would get his own share of insecurity. "Mr. Spock, isn't there anything you want to explain to me?" His voice was impatient, demanding.

Spock looked at him, taken aback. "Captain? I do not understand your meaning." Jim could almost see his mind racing to find an explanation for his captain's sudden mood swing. Just a second ago, he had been giddy with excitement and now he was cornering him.

"Well, I woke up this morning and you were gone…why? Were you scared to face me? Do you regret what happened? Or was this just a game for you?" Jim's voice was seemingly heavy with anger and bitterness. His usually sparkling blue eyes bore icy into Spock.

Spock's left eyebrow rose to meet his hairline. He nervously bit his lip. "Captain… Jim…" There it was again. The way Spock pronounced his name, almost like he was caressing it with his tongue, stirred a warm feeling in Jim's stomach. He had to compose himself not to falter in his act. "I imagined you would know by now that Vulcans are neither scared nor do they regret their actions. I well considered my actions and their consequences. And I would never engage in such activities as a simple 'game', as you put it." And even though his stoic mask was in place, his clenched jaw line gave away his offendedness. "I simply require less sleep than you do and I did not mean to disturb your rest. So I left to perform my morning meditation routine before my shift began", he continued, still perplexed.

Unbelievable! This man seriously had no clue what he'd caused! The innocent and confused expression on his face was most endearing. That finally took the weight off Jim's chest and he could no longer keep up his act. He couldn't hold back a laugh. "I see. So you won't strangle me, when I do this…?"

And with that, he took a step forward and laid his hands on the lift walls on either side of Spock's head, cornering him. Then he pushed in to steal a kiss from the bewildered Vulcan. For a moment, Spock melded into the sudden physical contact, returning the kiss. Relief emitted from his form. His hands clenched at Jim's shirt. But he soon regained his control and gently pushed Jim away.

"Captain! As pleasant as this may be, you should not engage in such displays of affection in public." He was slightly out of breath, his lips puffy.

"There's just you and me here…" Jim tried to approach him again, but he was powerless against his Vulcan strength. Spock's hand still rested on his chest to keep him at a distance.

"…and the security cameras!" Spock reminded him, pointing at the lens above their heads.

Jim had raised his hands in defeat, sighing, and activated the turbo lift. "Transporter Room."

* * *

Just when they positioned themselves on the transporter platform to be beamed down to the planet, the ship was badly shaken, sweeping Jim off his feet.

"Sulu?" he barked over the intercom from his position on the floor.

"Sir… we're being hit by… I don't know… it looks like a… tornado…," came the response.

"Mr. Sulu, your descriptions are imprecise as always," Spock interjected as he tried to hold himself upright, clinging to the transporter control.

"Sorry, sir. But there's no other way to describe it. Maybe you should see for yourselves," Sulu grumbled.

Jim rolled his eyes at their usual infantile bicker. "We're on our way." He was still struggling to gather his footing on the swaying deck to get off the transporter platform, while Spock had already made his way to the door.

The ship rocked again, throwing the ensign at the control panel forward onto the console. In his fall, he accidentally activated the transporter.

Before Jim could even react, he could already feel the pull of the transporter beam and the last thing he heard, before the light engulfed him, was Spock calling him, panic in his voice, "JIM!"


	7. Into the Vast

Into the Vast

"Good morning, sweetheart." When Glitch opened his eyes, he was met with Cain's tired and unshaven but nonetheless happy face. Cain placed a kiss on his forehead. "I told you I'd bring good news," he grinned. "Turns out the doctors did find a solution to your problem. All they needed was a little motivation…" His grin turned wicked.

Glitch sat up and looked at him disbelieving. "How did you…?"

"You see, it turns out they had a therapy all along. They just didn't see the necessity to tell anyone about it. Thought they could milk the queen a little longer to finance their other researches. 'Who cares about a stupid headcase anyway?'" Anger shone in his eyes. "If you ask me, these quacks are no better than the scum that used to work for the Witch. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them actually did."

"But you convinced them…?" A smile spread on Glitch's face. He knew his Tin Man well enough to be able to imagine what he had done to make them comply. And from the way they'd always treated him, like he was but a nausea that was not even worth their time, and the fact that they had used him to cheat money out of the queen, he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for them. He threw his arms around Cain and kissed him passionately.

"Sure did…," the Tin Man winked tellingly, before he returned the kiss with just as much passion. He drew the slim figure closer until it straddled him. Glitch had already pushed his hat off and now moved on to peel him out of his coat, as he nibbled on his earlobe, whispering, "I love you."

His fingers found the buttons on Cain's shirt and he tried to undo them. Cain wanted to return the favor. But in their haste to reach skin neither was very efficient. Instead, they ripped of most of the buttons, sending them flying all around them.

The pants proved to be even more problematic, since Glitch refused stubbornly to get off his lap. He was way too busy sucking bruises into Cain's neck. So Cain just swept him up and carried the frighteningly light-weight to the bed room.

He had barely sat him down on the bed, when Glitch's mouth wandered southward. He made sure to lick and nibble at every inch of skin from Cain's chest to his hips, while his hands desperately fumbled to get him out of his ridiculously tight pants that only grew tighter, as his arousal grew with every touch of Glitch tongue. He shot him an annoyed look. Not that he would usually complain about the sight, but at times like this, they sure where an obstacle.

Once the obstacle had been successfully removed, Cain threw him back onto the mattress and pushed a knee between his spread thighs, making him gasp. He grazed his teeth over Glitch's protruding collarbones. Once again, he noticed how much weight the scatterbrain had lost over the past weeks. His build had always been petite, but now he looked like a real scarecrow with his scrawny arms and the bones visible under his pale skin. His baggy pants with the scraped knees and frayed hems where held up by his belt alone. Without it, the cloth hung loose around his sharp hipbones. One tug, and off they went.

* * *

The sex was frantic, messy and over way too soon. But it had been too long, since they'd actually touched each other, so none of them really cared. They had to make sure the other was still there, maybe even rediscover each other, leave their mark on what was theirs.

Afterwards, they lay holding each other close, breathing each other's breath. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, Cain disengaged from the embrace, sat up and bent over Glitch. His expression darkened. He buried his hands in the dark curls and ran his fingers along the zipper. He already knew the answer, but still had to ask, "You know there _are_ some dangers to the operation… You might not even wake up again… Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Glitch took Cain's hands and kissed them. "I have to… I can't go on like this. I want to lead a normal life again – where I don't wake up every morning wondering who that sexy hunk next to me is…," he smiled weakly, his eyes pleading for Cain to understand.

"I know…," he sighed and kissed his forehead.

* * *

The discussion with the queen's surgeons went on for hours. They explained every risk and complication, and even called for Raw to connect him to his brain to make sure he really understood what was at stake here.

But he barely listened to all their blabbering. He was so giddy with excitement, he could barely sit still. He had a wide grin on his face and continued patting Cain's hand throughout the entire conversation. All this time, he had wanted to get his life back, and all of a sudden, it was within his grasp. This seemed almost too good to be true. He still couldn't believe this was truly happening. As far as he was concerned, they could've started the procedure immediately. He had waited for this long enough and didn't want to waste any more time. He did hear all those horror scenarios the doctors pictured, but he didn't worry much about it. Anything would be better than his current situation.

Cain on the other hand, the longer he listened to all those risks and complications, started to regret he'd ever called on these quacks. That night, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. Although then, he'd been hurt by Glitch's grief and furious, because there was absolutely nothing he could do to make him feel better. Now in bright daylight though, the desperate need to do something had faded, and he wondered if he hadn't rushed into things.

Sure, he wanted to make Glitch's wish come true, to see him happy and carefree again. He'd helplessly watched the defeated look on Glitch's face long enough, it nearly broke his heart. But was that really worth, selling him off as a guinea pig for those mad scientists? After all, they had no idea whatsoever what they were doing. The entire procedure was nothing but theory. And he didn't trust the sleazy scientists.

His heart had just begun to feel again, after all these years in the tin suit that had frozen it, shattered it. Glitch had put it back together, healed it, and now it was his. If anything was to happen to his scarecrow, it would break all over again, and he was sure there was no way to mend it yet again. He wasn't ready to lose Glitch – not now – not ever. He was brooding throughout their entire longwinded explanations.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice Glitch playing with his hand. Otherwise he'd have snatched it away immediately. Not that their relationship had been much of a secret or that he was ashamed of it, he just wasn't the type to show affection in public.

Finally, the discussion ended, and Glitch's voice ripped him out of his pondering, "…you hear that? We can get the surgery done already next week. Isn't that great?" Glitch was beaming at him and actually bounced in his chair.

Cain was still processing that information, when Glitch was already dragging him out the door. Outside, he flung his arms around the Tin Man and kissed him passionately. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, and the light, Cain had been missing all this time, had finally returned to Glitch's brown eyes. Cain wanted to protest, talk him out of it, but looking into those eyes, he just didn't have the heart to do it. A discussion would be useless. Glitch had already made up his mind, and there was nothing he could've say to change it. He wanted this more than anything, and Cain felt he didn't have the right to intervene. The decision wasn't his to make. Glitch, with or without a brain, was a grown man and could decide for himself. All Cain could do, was to support him, disregarding his own fears and anxieties, hoping everything was going to be all right.

Noticing his grave expression, Glitch became serious, "Wyatt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied and even managed a weak smile, before he passed Glitch and went away from the gloomy tower.

But Glitch wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. He caught up to him and took his arm to stop him. "Look, I know you're worried about all those what-ifs they've been talking about. You hear all those horrible things and you're convinced they're bound to happen. And you don't know, if you can go through this all over again after…"

Cain took Glitch's face in his hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, right underneath the zipper. Once again, he'd underestimated the zipperhead. He'd seen right into his soul. Had he really believed he could fool him with this pathetic performance? He hugged the smaller man closer, burying his face in the messy curls and deeply inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon and apples. He could do this – he had to.

Glitch disengaged from his arms to firmly look him into the eye. "I'm not gonna die," he whispered reassuringly.

The surgery was scheduled a week later. Cain had suggested waiting a little longer to give the doctors time to properly prepare, but Glitch wouldn't hear of it. The sooner he was back to being himself, the better.

* * *

The night before, none of them slept a wink. Glitch because he was way too excited and couldn't wait for morning to come, Cain because he was terrified. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that this was the last time they would be together like this. He studied Glitch with all his senses, memorizing every inch of his body, every sound, every scent. They lay in their shared bed and tightly embraced each other, tension heavy in the air.

And then, the day had finally come. The doctors brought Glitch and the tank with his brain into the operation room, and the door shut behind them, leaving Cain and their friends to wait anxiously. For the next eight hours, they could do nothing but sit in front of that offending door and be patient. Not once did someone come out to inform them of the progress.

Everyone had gathered: D.G. and Azkadelia held each other by their hands, sending all the magic, they could gather between them, into the operation room. Raw and Kalm had retreated to a corner of the hospital's waiting area where they would not be overwhelmed by the others' worries and anxieties. And even the queen had suspended her state business to be there for her dearest friend, supported by her husband Ahamo. Tutor in his dog form lay to her feet. And Jeb was trying his hardest to calm his father who was a nervous wreck.

He altered between pacing the hall, in an attempt to cut furrows into the wood floor, and apparently trying to stare holes into the massive wooden door that separated him from the events in the operation room. Patience had never been one of his strengths. He was a man of action and by now, he was ready to shoot anyone crossing his path. It was a good thing that Glitch had the presence of mind to stop him from strapping on his holster this morning. No matter how much Jeb tried to soothe him or motion him toward one of the chairs, he barely registered the boy, only shook him off to start another round of his stake-out.

* * *

Just when Cain was ready to tear down the door for real, convinced that they were actually performing some wicked experiments on the helpless zipperhead or something in there instead of doing their job, the door opened and the head surgeon stepped through, rubbing his head tiredly. Everyone was out of their chairs and crowed in on him immediately. "It's done," he said plainly, "The surgery went without any complications, though we will have to wait for Advisor Ambrose to wake up to see whether we have been successful."

A combined sigh of relief filled the room. And Cain finally felt a wave of exhaustion take hold of him. His knees gave way, and he sagged into the nearest chair. Jeb was right at his side, scrutinizing him. Cain looked up at the doctor from under the rim of his ever-present hat. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He will be taken to his room and then a nurse will come and get you," the doctor answered. "But you have to be aware that it will take time for him to wake up. He needs to heal and he can best do that while he is unconscious. It might take days before he opens his eyes."

"Dad, maybe you should first get some rest yourself. You haven't eaten anything all day and I'm sure you didn't sleep much last night either. You look like you're about to collapse," Jeb offered.

But his father just brushed him off, "I'm fine. And anyway, how could I possibly rest when I don't even know if he's alright?" And with that he got up and followed the nurse that had arrived to show him to Glitch's room.

* * *

A week passed and Glitch still hadn't woken up. His condition was unchanged. During that time, Cain hadn't left his side even once. They'd put a second bed into Glitch's room for Cain to sleep in, but he barely used it. Most of time, he sat in a chair next to Glitch's bed, holding his hand, telling him about the future that lay ahead of them, once he woke up, or simply praying to gods, he didn't believe in, for his headcase to recover.

D.G., Jeb, and Raw visited on a daily basis. Of course, they wanted to know how Glitch was doing, but mostly they came to check on Cain to make sure he didn't strain himself too much, that he ate and slept. Though whenever they put him to bed and left the room to let him rest, he'd get up again, the moment the door closed behind them, and most of the food, they left him, usually went untouched, if they didn't stay to force him to eat. Once Glitch woke up and saw his disheveled state, he'd probably laugh about his boy scout syndrome again, say he was worrying too much. He'd promised to come back to him and the scarecrow had never broken his word. Yet, he just couldn't help his pessimistic nature.

* * *

Then, one night, Glitch had fallen into a terrible fever. His usually still form shook with his elevated breathing, sweat shone on his ghostly pale skin. The shaking tore Cain, who had been resting his head on Glitch's legs, from a horrible nightmare.

_Glitch was running through a dark forest chased by Papays. Cain could hear him scream as he broke through the thicket. But he couldn't find him. He ran around, his gun at ready, calling his name. Still, no matter how fast he ran, the sounds grew more and more distant, until Glitch's screams were barely audible._

When Cain awoke it took a moment for him to register the situation. It had been but a dream. Still, it had felt so real. And then he realized it had been a warning. Glitch was dying!

He left the room in a panic to find the doctors, Raw, the princesses, anyone who could possibly help.

An hour later, they were all gathered in front of the operation room again: D.G. had buried her face in Kalm's fur. Her hand patted her sister's cheek. Azkadelia had rested her head on her shoulder, the look of guilt in her eyes even more prominent than usual. The queen had hidden her face in Ahamo's chest, and every now and then small sobs could be heard from her. Everyone was still in their nightgowns. Jeb sat with his father, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Unlike before, Cain didn't have the strength to pace the room. His body felt cast in iron. He only sat there, his head in his hands.

Jeb not only worried about Glitch, whom he'd grown very fond of, ever since that night when they had conspired against his father. His father didn't know of this, but whenever Cain was out, patrolling with the night shift, Glitch would come over, and they had dinner together. He'd suspected Glitch was feeling lonely, without his father around, and thus had invited him over one night. From there, it had developed into something like their own little tradition. He greatly enjoyed the scatterbrain's company. He might not be the brilliant legend everyone kept talking about anymore, but he had a tender and wise soul, you could confide in. Glitch had become a dear member of their odd little family, and he didn't dare imagine what would happen to them, if he was suddenly gone.

But he couldn't allow himself to think along those lines now. He had to be strong, had to support his father. Never before had he seen the man like this. The usually tough Tin Man seemed so fragile all of a sudden, somehow smaller than the strict father he'd always looked up to. He looked haggard and about to collapse.

The only one missing from the odd company was Raw. He was in with the doctors to try and help lower the fever. Then suddenly, the door opened and the Viewer staggered out. He looked exhausted and defeated. When everyone looked up at him expectantly, he only shook his head. Kalm rushed over to support him and guide him to a chair, before he could collapse in the hall way.

Jeb turned to his father who had only retreated further behind his hat. He sat unmoving and didn't say a word. The others gathered around the doctor who had followed shortly after Raw. He addressed the queen, "I am terribly sorry, your highness. But there was nothing we could do for the Advisor. The brain had gotten infected. We had to remove it."

"But he's alive?" Cain whispered from underneath his hat.

"Excuse me?" the doctor turned to him.

"I said, is he alive?" Cain had gotten up and glared at the doctor, murder in his eyes, as he moved toward him. "I wanna see him!" It was an order, and the doctor could only comply.

* * *

Again, Cain spent day and night at Glitch's bedside. But his condition didn't improve much. There was nothing the doctors could do for him – or at least they claimed they couldn't. Cain didn't believe a word they said. But even if they did have a cure, he wasn't sure he'd ever allow them to come near Glitch again. They had already caused more than enough damage. He'd never trusted them, and so far, they'd done little to gain his trust. Instead, Raw came every day, straining himself to his limits to heal the infection. And slowly, the fever subsided.

Glitch remained unconscious, though. His slim body seemed even smaller in the huge hospital bed. He nearly disappeared in the white sheets. The zipper had been put back into his skull, in case there should ever be another chance to re-implant his brain. And the metal seemed to glitter mockingly whenever Cain looked at it, reminding him that he had failed in protecting Glitch. From the beginning, he had been against this and he should've never allowed Glitch to go through with this. Bitterness built up in him like a ball of fire waiting to explode.

He felt like he was back in his tin suit. Only this time, his prison was a dull white cell that held two prisoners. His life with Glitch played before him over and over again, but with every replay it felt a little more distant, a little less real, as if it was just a dream, and the reality had always been the sterility of this hospital room. His body was paralyzed and his spirits slowly left him. Glitch had been the sun in his life and without him he could already feel the darkness of his soul crowding in on him once more. If his little joker were to die, he would willingly return into the suit.

But he could still hear Glitch's optimistic voice in his head, promising him he'd be alright, and he believed in him. He simply had to.


	8. Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Follow the Yellow Brick Road

When Kirk came to he was lying on soft grass. The light of the two suns filtered through the trees above. He blinked at the sight disbelieving. "Wait – two suns…?" he wondered, "Where the devil…?" He decided he had to be dreaming and so closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again he would wake up for real and be back where he was supposed to be – on his ship. But when he opened his eyes nothing had changed.

He sat up to study his surroundings. The motion caused a wave of nausea to rush over him. Slowly the memories returned to him. They'd discovered a mysterious planet with twin suns. Spock and he had wanted to beam down to the surface. But something hit the ship. He was engulfed by a blinding light, and then… nothing.

But that would mean Spock had to be here as well. Kirk jumped up alarmed. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen. "Spock? Spock!" he called, though he got no reply. He could feel panic rise inside of him and ordered himself to calm down, take in the entire situation, and make a plan. He was a starship captain after all – the fleet's finest, as the admiralty liked to call him, to top it off. He sat down on a log and took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse.

The last seconds in the transporter room came back to him. Spock hadn't been with him on the platform. He had been standing in front of it, screaming his name as Jim felt the transporter beam take him apart. And that expression on Spock's face – was that panic? No, that had to be his mind playing tricks on him… The Vulcan would never show emotion so openly. That was just wishful thinking.

So Spock was back at the ship – safe. What a relief. By now, he was probably already trying everything to locate him and beam him back up. And what was wrong with him anyway? He wasn't usually this slow and prone to panic. "Must have hit my head pretty hard when I crashed here," he thought, "Oh well, nothing Bones can't fix when I'm back aboard. I'll just have to call them up."

He took the communicator from his belt and tried hailing the Enterprise - no reply! What if the ship was _not_ safe? They had been hit by something after all. But what…? Sulu had said something… a tornado? No, that was ridiculous! He still had to be imaging things.

He tried all frequencies – to no avail. All he got was static. "Damn it!" He felt the fear crawling back up again. So, something _had_ happened to his ship! It couldn't have been destroyed, could it? "No, don't jump to conclusions here," he tried to calm himself, "There's like a million other explanations. The communications system might be damaged. Or there are atmospheric interferences. Maybe it's my own communicator that's broken." He knew they were still up there, searching for him. They just had to be. He would not allow himself to think otherwise. "I should probably worry more about myself. They do perfectly fine on their own," he tried to convince himself, not entirely successful.

It made him wonder: just when had he stopped taking this mission strictly as an assignment, as a means to further his career? When had that ship become his home and her crew his family? A home and family he'd never had and had never known he wanted. Though he had to admit lately he'd discovered a lot of things he desired which he would've never believed he'd ever care about, like Spock…

If only Spock were here. Suddenly, he felt extremely lonely. Sure, this wasn't the first time he was stranded on a planet without any communications with the ship. But he'd never been entirely on his own (except for when Spock had marooned him on Delta Vega - an experience that still caused him nightmares of being eaten alive. And even then the older version of Spock had been there to rescue him). There had always been some crewmembers with him. He was the captain, he was responsible for them, and he had to be strong for them. He couldn't allow his fears to take over. He had to bring them home safe. There was no room for weakness and self-doubt. His responsibility made him strong. This time was different though, he was all alone and he just couldn't shake off the fears that where hiding in the corners of his mind, slowing down his reasoning and his decisions. He was at a loss as to what to do.

Again, he mentally kicked himself, "What's wrong with you? This isn't like you at all! You're James T. Kirk, dammit! You never give up! You even got the Vulcan to admit he had feelings for you! And now you have to get back to him. So pull yourself together!" He'd been in situations far worse than this and he'd always found a way out. And now too, he'd find a way to get back to his ship.

The intrepid captain in him took charge of his mind, slowly subduing the fearful voices that kept whispering horrible scenarios to him of what might've happened to his ship and crew. He wouldn't allow these fears to control him. To get out of this predicament he had to think positive.

What he needed was a plan. Spock had said there were cities on the planet. The people weren't too advanced technologically, but still they might be able to supply him with tools and information to help him figure out what exactly had happened. And even if they couldn't help him, anything would be better than to sit in this god-forsaken forest and do nothing.

The plan was set. Now he only had to find his way back to civilization.

He spent hours stumbling through the forest, until he got to a point where he started doubting that there actually was any form of intelligent life on this planet. But Spock had said there was, and thus there simply had to be. Spock would never be mistaken about something like this. So he continued his journey until he finally reached a road. Well, not exactly a road, more like the ruins of one. There were yellow bricks set in the ground. Most of them had crumbled away or were covered in moss, but there were still enough left to show the way. He followed the road, hoping it would eventually take him to some kind of town.

* * *

Meanwhile on the Enterprise, the crew was bopping up. The anomaly, whatever it might've been, had not only shaken them up pretty badly, it had also apparently hurled them halfway through the galaxy. The entire bridge crew had been thrown off their chairs, and now they dizzily scrambled back to their positions.

In the transporter room, Spock got back to his feet. He shook his head to clear the dizziness that clouded his mind. Jim… that last image of him being taken apart by the transporter had burned itself into his memory. Had he made it safely to the planet's surface? Fear welled up in him. He grabbed the ensign manning the transporter station by the front of his uniform shirt and lifted him off the ground. "What happened to the Captain?" he demanded.

The poor fellow was only half-awake, and it took him a moment to register what was happening. Then panic took hold of him as Spock's unyielding eyes bore into him. "I… I'm sorry, sir… I… I… don't know…," he stammered.

Spock got a grip of himself. He let go of the shaking ensign who looked at him like he'd rather beam himself out into the emptiness of space than be with him in the same room for another second. What had gotten into him? He hadn't shown such an open display of emotion since… _that_ day. And he had sworn to himself it would never happen again. And all because of this extraordinary man – his captain – Jim… No! Now was not the time for this.

He took a deep breath to compose himself and dismissed the ensign who all but stormed out of the room, nearly running into the bulkheads as they didn't open fast enough.

He mustn't allow himself to get lost in his worries. He had to regain his logic to find a solution to this situation. For a moment, Spock closed his eyes in meditation to reign in the unfamiliar emotions washing over him, then he called up the transporter logs. They read that the captain had been beamed down successfully to the input coordinates at 1437 hours. Good! So he was alive and – hopefully - safe on that planet. Now all they had to do was go back and find him. "Just what one would expect from a man with the strange luck of James Kirk," he thought to himself in a mixture of relief and amusement.

But he was now Acting Captain, and as such his first responsibility lay with the ship, her crew and their safety. There was no room for personal feelings. He couldn't allow himself to show any weakness that would only impede the crew's efficiency. He had to purge his mind from the emotions of fear and hope warring inside of him and evaluate the situation logically.

First of all, they had to ascertain their condition and find out where they had stranded.

* * *

The bridge crew had just started running their diagnoses on the various systems when the turbo lift doors opened and Spock strode in. While anyone else looked worn out and disheveled, he seemed entirely unaffected by the events.

He'd used the down time in the lift to correct his slightly untidy appearance. He'd straighten his hair and uniform and put on his stoic mask. He'd also managed to subdue the emotions raging inside him to a low whisper in the back of his mind and was almost back to his usual composed self. As commanding officer he had to be a paragon of discipline, especially in a chaotic situation like this.

"Status report," he ordered evenly as he took his station.

"Sir, all departments report systems online. There are only minor damages to the ship and casualties among the crew; nothing serious – except for the Captain…," Sulu reported, his voice trailing off at the last part.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," Spock cut any further comment on that. He turned around before any effect that last statement might've had on him could show on his face, and manipulated his own console to activate the scanners.

Just as the computer showed him the preliminary results of the scans, he could hear Sulu whisper to Chekov behind him in an attempt to brighten the kid's spirits, "Pavel, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

Before Chekov could return anything, Spock turned around and folded his hands behind his back. "On the contrary, Mr. Sulu, that is exactly where we are."

The helmsman and navigator stared at him dumbfounded.

"We are in a relative orbit above the state of Kansas on the North American continent – in other words: Earth," he elaborated.

"But that's impossible! We were about 200 light years from our system," Sulu returned.

"I am well aware of that. It would seem this 'tornado', as you so unscientifically called it, was in fact some kind of connection between the unknown planet and Earth," Spock explained.

"You mien like ay worm hole?" Chekov interjected.

"No. If a worm hole had existed this close to Earth, it would have been discovered centuries ago. Its workings must be quite similar, though, considering the distance we traveled," Spock mused, returning his attention to his station. "Whatever this anomaly was that brought us here, it appears to have disappeared now. Our sensors do not pick up anything out of the ordinary…"

* * *

At that moment the doors to the turbo lift opened and McCoy stormed in. "Spock! What in the devil happened? And where's Jim? How come no one ever informs me of anything?"

"Doctor, if you would calm down, please…"

"Calm down? My ass! How can you be so relaxed when Jim's missing? He's your… friend, dammit! If you were missing… he'd already be searching the entire quadrant for you… you cold-blooded…"

"Doctor!"Spock interrupted his rambling, "Your insults are inappropriate as well as unproductive. Had you allowed me the chance, I would have already told you that the captain was safely beamed to the planet we were about to examine before we were hit by this anomaly. It is in fact us you should be worried about, since we are the ones that were thrown halfway through the galaxy."

McCoy looked at him gawking, though he was not calmed yet, "Alright. I see. So what are we waiting for? Why aren't we going back to pick him up? God knows what he's facing down on that hell of a planet. He might need our damn _help_!"

That hit home. The suppressed images of what might await Jim on the planet's surface threaten to push to the forefront of his mind. Spock took a moment before he answered, "We would be already on our way, if you had not chosen this moment to interrupt our discussion with this display of your mental break-down," Spock deadpanned. "Unfortunately, we cannot take the same way back we came here, since we do not know when or if the anomaly will appear again. Meaning we will have to take the long way back."

He turned toward the helm where Sulu and Chekov were desperately trying to keep their expressions professionally neutral, while listening to their commanding officers' bantering. "Mr. Chekov, plot a course to our previous coordinates in the unknown binary solar system. Mr. Sulu, maximum warp."

"Aye, sir," they returned in unison.

"Is there anything else I can do you for, doctor?" Spock addressed McCoy, a slight exasperation in his voice.

The doctor scrutinized him, then mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and left the bridge. Spock could only watch after him, raising his eyebrow. As much as he shared McCoy's worries – though he'd never admit that - he would never understand the doctor's urge for emotional break downs in the most inopportune of times. They did nothing to improve the situation, only impaired his judgement. Though, if Spock had been honest with himself in his analysis, he'd have to admit that it was himself rather than the doctor he was mentally chiding for his weakness here.

* * *

For the moment, there was nothing he could do. The Enterprise was headed for their original coordinates at maximum warp. Still, it would take them days to get there. And in the meantime, there was absolutely nothing he could do. He sat down in the captain's chair. "Jim's chair…," he thought, his fingers caressing the armrests, as if he could still trace Jim's lingering presence there. The last night suddenly seemed so far away.

To distract himself from the sense of uselessness that tried to take hold of him, he decided to log the recent events. But as he began his recordings, he realized he was unable to focus on the mere facts. His mind kept wandering back to that last image of Jim before he'd dematerialized. He could only hope he was right and Jim was safe on that planet, though he was well aware that he had no evidence whatsoever to back up that theory. McCoy might have a point about the dangers that could await their captain. After all, they knew nothing about the planet… or its inhabitants.

No, he must not let himself be affected by the doctor's emotional outburst. He was Vulcan and therefore had to follow his teachings. Speculation without any facts to base them on would get him nowhere. Emotions were but a useless distraction and only corrupted one's decisions. If only he didn't have such a hard time suppressing his emotions. It shouldn't nearly take as much focus.

He wondered when he had become this emotional. Contrary to his people's belief, he'd never been prone to emotional displays. He'd always been the paragon of Vulcan control. But lately, it seemed harder and harder to reign in his feelings. Ever since he'd been assigned to this ship, his planet had been destroyed, and he'd met Jim, something inside him had changed.

_Kroykah_! He took a deep breath and fell into a meditational stance to subdue the negative thoughts that threatened to take over his reason.

For now, this was _his_ chair – _his_ command. And that was all that mattered right now.


	9. And your Eyes were Ocean Blue

And your Eyes were Ocean Blue

Glitch felt the sunslight warming his face. He tried to open his eyes, but a thick dark mass was holding him down. He was caught in the blackness at the bottom of the ocean of oblivion. He had to swim towards that light he felt glittering at the surface of his consciousness. The struggle was exhausting, but inch by inch he could feel his body floating upwards. And the higher he rose the easier it was to move his limbs.

Glitch stirred in his bed, though there was no one to notice it. Cain sat in his chair, his hat pulled deep into his face. He was fast asleep.

A small moan escaped Glitch's lips, unheard. Then he opened his eyes and blinked at the bright light. After the darkness of his coma the light hurt his eyes, and he buried his head in the cushions.

His brain took a little longer to get in gear, but then the questions flooded over him, the most important: who am I? He had no answer to that. It was disturbing. He concentrated on this question until his head hurt, but still nothing. He only had a hunch that this was nothing new. There was this sense of déjà vu that told him this had happened before, and the answer would come to him eventually. It was a small comfort, but at least it gave this bizarre situation a sense of normalcy.

Then his mind moved on to the next question: where am I? Maybe that would be easier to answer. He listened, still not daring to open his eyes. But there was absolutely nothing to be heard. So he had no choice but to open his eyes. He blinked around himself carefully, his eyes slowly getting used to the light. There was little to be seen though: white sheets, white walls, and a window overlooking some trees in a small room, nothing to help him identify his surroundings. But the smell… the smell was somehow familiar – a hospital! But why was he at a hospital? He didn't feel ill, just awfully hungry.

He scratched his head, trying to fit the puzzle together. Then his fingers hit metal. He traced the cold line on his head – a zipper! That explained why he was at a hospital – and why he couldn't remember anything. They had taken his brain! Panic welled up in him.

Fragmented pictures appeared before his inner eye: the Witch had been after him. She needed something he knew. She'd tortured him. But he'd refused to tell her anything. He'd run away, but her Long Coats had been after him. So this could only mean they'd caught him after all. It had all been in vain. The Witch probably had what she wanted by now, whatever that might've been.

But now was not the time to fret about that. He had to get out of here, before they came back for him. Before that he needed some clothes though. In this thin gown he'd stand out too much. He searched the room and found some lying on a table nearby. Only now fell his gaze on the dark figure in the chair. How could he have missed it before? A Long Coat! His breath caught and for a moment he was frozen in fear. As he held his own breath, he noticed the other man's even breathing. He was sleeping. Lucky! He'd never seen such a careless guard before - probably. This was his chance.

* * *

Careful not to make the least sound, he climbed out of bed. His legs felt wobbly as he tried to stand on them, and he got dizzy. "No, not now! You have to get out of here! Move!" he ordered himself. He made his way to the table on shaky legs and grabbed his clothes – at least he imagined them to be his – and continued to the door, always keeping an eye on the sleeping guard. He could only hope it wasn't locked. He sure wouldn't have the dexterity to snatch the keys from the guard. The man didn't move. Not even as the door thankfully opened with a creek that echoed way too loud in Glitch's head.

He checked the hall, and when no one was to be seen, he snuck out and closed the door behind him. He rested his pounding head against the door frame and let out the breath he'd been holding since he got out of the bed. The first step of his 'escape plan', if one could call it that, had been successful. Next he had to find a way out of this hospital. He turned around some corners, always making sure there was no one around to see him.

When he came upon a dark corner, he decided it was time to change out of his hospital gown. He pulled on the pants - a little loose but with the belt they would do. Next came the striped shirt. The shirt with all its confusing buttons proved difficult. He had only closed two of them, but already the tails hung at a strange angle. He was so focused on the shirt he almost missed the two chattering nurses that came down the hall toward him. At the last second, he hid deeper into the shadows of the alcove. That was close! For a minute, he just stood there pressed against the wall, not daring to take a breath.

Only when he was sure the coast was clear, did he dare come out again. He slipped on the shoes and threw on the coat, before he hurried along the corridor. The way through this maze of halls was endless. Well, actually, he would've only had to turn left at the end of the hall and then take the second door on the right and he would have been out. But in his confused state of mind, Glitch chose the other direction and got lost several times, walking the same halls over and over again, without noticing it.

Finally, he made it to the exit. And as soon as he passed through the doors, he broke into a mindless run. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was he had to get away from here. Out in the open, it was impossible to avoid being seen, but strangely enough no one cried havoc. The people on the streets only threw him strange looks, whispering among each other.

* * *

Once he was out of the town, he collapsed against a tree. "That went better than expected. Good job for a headcase!" he patted himself on the back, unfazed by the fact that he had faced no real obstacles in his escape whatsoever and never considering that maybe he'd had no need to escape to begin with.

He was completely exhausted. He was starving. But he was just too tired to get up again. His body felt so heavy, like it hadn't moved in weeks. He crawled to the nearby pond to at least drink some water. He studied his reflection in the water. "Who are you?" he asked. The man in the water didn't have an answer either. Brown curls parted by a zipper, a ragged brown coat with rich embroideries, the man looking back at him did seem awful familiar. Though the clothes were a little too baggy for his taste, maybe they were his after all? Probably he'd just lost some weight while he'd been imprisoned?

He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, still trying to remember something, anything. While he was still pondering about the big existential questions he had no answer to, sleep came over him.

In his dream, he saw a pair of light blue eyes floating in the darkness. There was nothing else, only those piercing eyes. At first they seemed cold. But he knew they were not. In his soul, he knew the eyes belonged to a very gentle, loving person, someone very dear to him. Of course, he had no idea who that someone was. If only he could see a little more, maybe then he would know. His dream-self strained his eyes to make out more details, but the darkness remained. Instead he heard something – a voice! _"Sweetheart"_ The voice was so tender and full of love, it stirred a warmth in his chest and more than that, it stirred a memory.

_Suddenly, the darkness was gone. He stood in front of a dilapidated cabin. He could still hear the voice. It came from… a tin suit appeared in front of him. Carefully, he approached it and there they were again in the small visor of the helmet: the blazing blue eyes. The man inside called for him._

"Wyatt!" Glitch awoke with the name on his lips. His mind was still blank. But his heart remembered: Wyatt, his beloved boy scout with the pale blue eyes and the rare smile, he would only show to him. But where was he now? Images flashed through his mind: him and the blonde in front of a cozy fire place, Long Coats chasing them, Cain locked up in a tin suit… He didn't have a timeline to piece the images together in the right order, but the only logical order of events he could make out, was that they'd lived a happy life together until the Long Coats came chasing them for something he knew – though he had no idea what that might have been. They'd been on the run for some time, but eventually the Long Coats must've caught them. They had taken his brain. And Wyatt… Wyatt had to be locked up in a tin suit somewhere… His love, his only connection to this world was locked up somewhere in the dark and waited for him to save him.

He got up and wrapped himself tighter into his coat. Determined to find his boy scout, he continued down the yellow paved road that led away from the city. Soon enough though, he got distracted from his mission. His stomach was growling with hunger, and the smell wafting over to him from the apple trees along the road made his mouth water. He climbed onto a tree and filled his pockets with the delicious looking red fruits. And as he sat down under the tree, happily munching away on his sweet breakfast, the tin suit and the man inside of it were forgotten.

* * *

Finally, Cain awoke from his deep slumber. Outside the second of the suns was already setting. He must've been really beat. He hadn't slept this long in weeks. He pushed back his hat and stretched yawning. Then his eyes fell onto the bed – and his heart stopped. The bed was empty! He leapt to his feet and rushed out the door.

In the hall, he ran into a nurse, nearly knocking her down. He caught her by the shoulders and yelled at her, "Where is he?"

She only blinked at him stupidly, "Who?"

"Glitch… Advisor Ambrose," he shook the poor girl, "what did you do to him?" He really wished he had his gun on him. He knew these loons couldn't be trusted. They were sure to be performing one of their sick experiments on Glitch. But he wouldn't allow that. His stone-cold eyes bore into her.

But the girl only stared at him terrified. "What are you talking about?" she tried to calm herself and the madman threatening her. "He's in his room. Where else could he be? He's in a coma!"

"Stop pretending! I know you're hiding him somewhere!" He pushed her into the wall.

"Dad!" Jeb's voice sounded behind him. "Let her go! What's gotten into you?" He laid his hands over his father's and tried to pry them from the shaking girls' arms. As soon as she was free, she rushed down the hall and disappeared behind a corner.

Cain rested his head against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Dad, what happened?" Jeb tried again.

Cain turned around and pointed to the open door. "He's gone!" Then he sagged to the floor, hiding his head in his hands.

Jeb's eyes followed his father's outstretched arm. He stepped through the door and examined the room. It was empty. The only trace left of Glitch were the rumpled bed sheets. Even his clothes that had been neatly folded on the table waiting for him were gone.

A doctor appeared in the door. "I assume you didn't take the Advisor for an examination or anything?" Jeb inquired in his best Tin Man manner. Cain would've been so proud of him, if he'd been in any condition to take in the scene playing before him. The doctor shook his head. "And of course, you have no idea what happened to him?"

"N…no," the doctor stuttered, his expression a mixture of disbelieve and embarrassment. "I checked on him this morning after the Healer had gone, and his condition was unchanged. And when the nurse wanted to check on him again, Mr. Cain attacked her with his ridiculous accusations."

Jeb looked at his father who still sat on the floor unmoving. "You have to excuse him. He's in a shock. We know this isn't your fault. Thank you, doctor. The Tin Man will take over from here."

With this he left the room and pulled his father off the floor. "Come on, dad, I'll find him. But first I'll take you home."

But the Tin Man shook off his hand and straightened. "I can't go home now. I have to find him. Maybe he's been kidnapped…"

The younger Cain sighed. "Dad! You've been in there with him all day. Who would be stupid enough to try and kidnap him right under your nose? Maybe he just woke up and is now hungrily strolling the halls searching for some food."

"Fine, so if you're right, I won't take long to find him." He strode off to start his search, staggering. He hadn't really taken much care of his body lately, had neither slept nor eaten properly, and that was taking its toll on him now. His head was spinning.

Jeb caught his father's arm before he could collapse to the floor. He rolled his eyes. His old man was being stubborn again. But he wouldn't have that – not now. He'd watched his father ruin his health long enough. He'd put an end to this madness. "No, listen," he said firmly, "you will go home now and have a bath, and I will send a maid to prepare you a proper meal, and you will sit down and eat it!"

"But…," Cain tried to argue.

His son wasn't done yet, though. "No buts! You're in no condition to run around town. Or do you want me to get D.G. to sit on you and make sure you don't do anything stupid?" That shut him up. "And in the meantime, I will form a Tin Man unit to search the palace. He can't have gotten far. He's a headcase that just woke up from a coma, for heaven's sake. You'll see, he'll be back before the suns rise tomorrow." He clapped his father's back reassuringly and then gently pushed him down the hall toward the exit. Lucky for the younger, the older Cain was in no condition to argue back or this would've probably turned into their worst fight ever. But the older man was just too exhausted to put up a fight and deep down inside he had to admit that his son was maybe right.

* * *

Cain slid into the hot water and instantly his aching muscles, stiff from remaining on his sentry at Glitch's bedside for weeks, began to relax. His mind didn't follow his body though. How could he let this happen? How had the clumsy scarecrow managed to sneak out on him? When had his instincts dulled like this? He should be out there searching for Glitch. But his body protested at the idea of leaving the soothing hot water. Suddenly, he felt old and tired. He felt like he could sleep for an annual. Maybe Jeb was right. Maybe he was getting too old to serve as a Tin Man. Maybe he should leave this job to the younger generation. They were probably already making fun of him for getting suckered by a headcase.

No! This was _his_ responsibility! _He_ had to find his little convict! He couldn't just idly sit around and wait. It went against his nature.

A rap at the door made him start. "Your dinner is ready, sir," the maid called from the other side. Perfect, just what he needed. The smell of food that wafted through the door already made his mouth water. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent meal. Now, he'd replenish his energies and then he'd go out there to find his scarecrow.

He was determined when he entered the kitchen. A feast waited for him on the table. And at the opposite side of the table… sat the princess. His spirits sagged immediately as he sat down, grumbling.

She smiled at him knowingly. "Jeb told me what happened and I thought I'd come over to keep you company… just to be sure you don't do anything rash."

"Great! Why don't you join me for dinner? I hate eating alone anyway," he offered mock politely, while staring at her viciously.

"Thank you, Mr. Cain," she replied sweetly, ignoring his subtle threat, and they started eating.

* * *

After dinner, she insisted on him getting some sleep.

"Are you gonna tuck me in as well?" he grumbled, but obliged and disappeared into the bedroom. He lay down on the bed. But without Glitch's squirming body next to him it felt awfully big and cold. For a while, he tossed around. All he wanted to do was to be out there and do what he was best at: finding the escapee. Though he knew he couldn't leave just yet. D.G. was still out there and she was sure to check on him.

The minutes ticked away, until finally he heard the door open. The princess peaked in to make sure he was fast asleep as he was supposed to. He closed his eyes and lay still, hoping she would fall for his act. Seemingly she was satisfied, as her head retreated and she closed the door as silently as possible.

That was his sign. Cain waited for her steps to retreat. Then he got up, took his hat, coat, and gun and climbed out of the window. He felt ridiculous, sneaking out of his own house, like he was a school boy sneaking out for a nighttime date. But he knew better than to argue with the princess about his plan. She would never let him go. Instead, she and his son would probably tie him to the bed, if they found him out.


	10. You lead, I follow

You lead, I follow

The area Jim had landed in had to be the most outlaying on this entire planet. He'd been following the yellow brick road for three days now, and there was still no trace of civilization to be seen. It had taken him two days alone to make it out of the forest he'd landed in. The covert grew thick along the road, and he often had to climb over tree trunks that had fallen over the path or huge roots that had broken through the pavement.

Again, Jim had to wonder whether Spock had made a mistake when he calculated the coordinates for their landing or the data had been jumbled when the ship had jolted. He sure couldn't have planned to strand them in this godforsaken area. Jim just hoped the Enterprise would find him anytime soon. He was sick and tired of stumbling across this nether land.

The darkness of the forest gave him the creeps. He couldn't see anything in the thicket, but he could hear the wild animals roaming it, following his scent. So he didn't dare leave the road. At least here, he would see in time when they attacked. He was also glad that a brook ran along not too far off the road, and wild berries grew in abundance along the wayside. He was very careful about eating them though, since he had no means of finding out if they were poisonous.

Not for the first time on a mission, he wished he'd brought a tricorder along. And why wasn't that standard protocol for away missions anyway? One could never know when it came in handy. But again, he'd left the scientific equipment to his science officer, believing they wouldn't be separated anyway. He should have known better…

Still, he should probably be glad that at least his phaser worked for a change - which came kind of as a surprise. These things almost never worked when you actually needed them. So when he'd faced a tiger-like creature on the first day, he was halfway convinced his phaser would fail him yet again as he drew it to shoot at the creature. Fortunately, the device fired the energy beam it was supposed to, evaporating the beast, and ever since none of the animals sneaking after him had dared come out again.

* * *

Finally, the trees cleared and Jim was out in the sunlight again. Vast fields of green spread in front of him. He stood out in the open, relishing the suns warming his face and took a deep breath. The air here seemed so much clearer than it had in the sweltry, suffocating darkness of the forest. Though he could still feel the ferocious eyes gleaming in the dark behind him. He had to get away from here. He kept stumbling along the uneven road. But now that the dangers of the forest lay behind him and the adrenaline had faded off, he could feel the fatigue claiming his body. He hadn't slept in two days, afraid he'd be attacked the moment he let his guard down.

The suns had moved quite a way across the sky, when Jim came upon a crystal clear lake sparkling in the afternoon suns. The place was quiet and peaceful – a real paradise. Jim could hardly believe this was still the same planet. The sweet delicious smell of ripe apples hit his nose and reminded him that he hadn't eaten properly in days either. He picked as many apples as he could carry.

Until suddenly, something grabbed his left arm. The tree branch wrapped around his wrist tightly. An ancient wrinkled face appeared in the bark. "You won't pick from us!" the tree growled. For a second Jim just stared at it disbelieving. Then he hurriedly drew his phaser and shot at the branch, severing it. The tree screamed in pain. But Jim was free and made a dash for it, clutching the apples to his body.

When he was halfway around the lake he collapsed at the shore, winded. Paradise – he should've known better! Experience had taught him that for some reason places that seemed like paradise always had a tendency to turn into a nightmare. And here he'd thought he'd had his share of nightmares already while stumbling through the forest… And now, there were trees attacking him… Could this trip get any worse? – Better not to think about it.

For the umpteenth time in the past days he flung out his communicator and tried hailing the Enterprise. Still nothing but static. He lay back and munched away at the apples thinking. He had to contact his ship but since the communicator was of no use, he had to find help. If only he'd find a city already. Maybe there he could find some answers to his problems. But before that he needed to rest. When his hunger was assuaged he stretched out in the warm sunslight and fell asleep.

He curled up and dreamt of the Enterprise, his ship, his home.

_He materialized in the transporter room, and the first thing he saw was the look on Bones' face. One eyebrow arched, he scrutinized his disheveled appearance, his torn uniform. _

"_Do I even want to know?" he grumbled as he stepped forward to wield the medical tricorder at Jim. The tricorder apparently didn't show anything unusual, since Bones' posture relaxed marginally. "Could you just for once not get yourself into trouble? Think that's possible?" he sighed as he clapped Jim on the shoulder to express his relief to have his friend back aboard unharmed, without looking like a helicopter mom. _

_Jim saw right through him, though. "I'm trying, mom," he laughed as he stepped of the transporter platform. _

_Then the bulkheads opened, and Spock entered. His dark eyes were gleaming, and he had a wide smile on his face, incompared to any expression Jim had seen on the Vulcan so far. He hadn't even believed him capable of a smile like this. The sight made his heart flutter. "Jim!" he exclaimed, still grinning. Before Jim could realize what was happening, Spock had whirled him around and swept him into a hug. He could feel the disbelieving looks of Bones and Scotty on his back. But he chose to ignore them to lean in and claim his welcome-back kiss. _

_Spock noticed them, though, and momentarily he let go of Jim and straightened. "Captain. Welcome aboard," he said tonelessly, his stoic mask back in place. _

* * *

Jim awoke again as the first sun rose on a new day. It took him a moment to realize it had just been a dream. It had seemed so real. He sat up and stretched. If he wanted this scene to become reality, he had to get moving. With new energy and determination he set off.

After walking for some time, he noticed fields around him, enclosed by little blue fences. So there were people on this planet after all. That lightened his mood and quickened his pace. In the distance, he could also see a small village. The houses were painted blue all over, from the roof to the walls and doors.

Around noon, he reached the village. The houses seemed awfully small – even the roof ridges barely reached up to his nose - and no one was to be seen in the streets or gardens. Which was odd, since he'd heard quite a turmoil in the streets when he'd approached the village. Now it felt like a ghost town. As he continued down the road, though, he noticed small faces staring at him from behind the windows.

Three men blocked his way. They reached up to his waist, were dressed in all blue like the rest of the town, and held pitchforks in their shaking hands. "Who are you, stranger, and what do you want from us?" the one in the middle inquired. "Great, at least the universal translator is functioning," he thought to himself in a bout of sarcasm.

But how could he possibly explain to them where he'd come from? These small people in their farm town probably had no idea about space travels. To be sure, he could've overpowered them easily. Still, he didn't want to make the first people he'd met on this planet his enemies. He did need their help after all. According to Spock's readings, there had to be a more advanced society and even if these country people couldn't help him, maybe they could at least show him, where he could get help.

"I mean you no harm," he said calmly, raising his hands in surrender and smiling in a hopefully reassuring way, while he pondered about explaining his situation to them, without scaring them off. His opponents relaxed minutely. But he realized it wasn't because they believed or trusted him when he heard hoofs behind him. From the sound of it and his opponent's reaction, the newcomers would most likely be the real threat.

Slowly, as to not start any of them, he turned around, hands still in the air. He was confronted with two men on horses. The horses had the same built as the ones he knew from earth, and the men riding them seemed to be about his size. They had drawn their hats deep into their faces and wore long brown coats with a silver star pinned to the chest. Obviously, they had to be some kind of authority. Great, maybe they could help him find a city where there was actually some kind of technological development and thus scientists who could help him to make contact with his ship. Now, all he had to do was convince them he was no danger, only a traveler gone astray. Which was easier said than done, though.

The riders didn't even give him a chance to talk. There was still a lot of vermin crawling the O.Z., especially the further away from Central you got. The Tin Man had strict orders to arrest any suspicious looking persons and question them at the station. And this Munchkin village was one of the most backwater places in all the O.Z. They already had their hands full fighting the rogue long coats constantly plundering the villages. They wouldn't take any chances with a stranger dressed in ridiculous clothing carrying some kind of weapon on his belt.

They had him at gunpoint – ancient projectile weapons. "Quiet!" one of them barked when Jim opened his mouth to great them. The other dismounted and proceeded to arrest him.

"Wait! I didn't even do anything…," Jim tried to defend himself as the police man took his phaser and communicator. But that only earned him a kick to the kneecap before the officer yanked his hands behind his back and fastened the cuffs.

"He said 'Quiet!'" the man growled in his ear. Everything in Jim screamed to fight them. But he knew better. He needed them. On his own he would never get out of this mess. So he swallowed his rage and complied. He would have to be patient and wait for his chance to talk to them reasonably.

* * *

Glitch had been out in the wild for three weeks now, though he himself had no idea how long he'd been out there. His mind was completely blank. Cain and his quest to rescue him had been forgotten since the first glitch he'd had on the day he'd escaped from what he'd believed to be the scientists' lab.

But by now, even his escape was nothing but a vague memory, and for the life of him he couldn't have said whether that had been three weeks or ten years ago. Without any reference point, he'd lost track of time entirely. Every morning was like a new beginning. Yesterday had no meaning to Glitch since he couldn't remember it anyway. And if he _did_ actually remember an event he couldn't tell when it had taken place. His memories just blurred into each other.

Tags of memories surfaced in his dreams. He saw a brown haired girl with dark blue eyes, a viewer, and a hot blonde Tin Man on their trek through the O.Z., a queen asking his opinion, the Tin Man and him in what seemed to be their home, and sometimes he would even recognize the people living in his dreams and then he'd miss them dearly. When he awoke, though, these memories faded away, leaving behind a vague sense of loss he couldn't place. Without a trigger to call them forth, they were buried in the fuzzy darkness of his mind.

The only thing he always seemed to remember was that they were after him – the Long Coats. He had something they wanted, and they wouldn't rest until they had it. What that might be, though, he still didn't have the least clue. And he sure as hell didn't want to find out. So he avoided the towns and bigger roads, any places where people might see him. Mostly, he hid out in the woods and stole food from the fields when no one was around.

In the beginning, he'd been less careful, but then he'd recognized his face on the posters Jeb Cain, in charge of the official nationwide search for the advisor, had his men post everywhere. If Glitch had read them, he'd known that the palace was worried about him, that he'd disappeared in the middle of treatment to restore his brain, and that he required medical attention. Anyone seeing him should report to the nearest Tin Man unit and would be rewarded for his assistance.

All he had read, though, was the reward promised to the one restoring him to the authorities, and from that he drew his own conclusions. He couldn't afford anyone recognizing and betraying him. So he stayed away from the crowds and struggled to survive on his own, which wasn't as easy, since his fuzzy brain often forgot about major things like eating, drinking or sleeping. His clothes were dirty and ragged, the hems were frayed and his pants torn at the knees, the left sleeve was almost severed from his coat ever since he'd gotten caught in a bush.

Several times already, he'd watched the Long Coats in their sinister uniforms, hats concealing their faces, riding along the roads, searching the villages and woods for him. But so far, he'd always managed to hide in the thicket before they could detect him. He was quite proud of himself. For a headcase he was pretty skilled in avoiding them. "Stupid Long Coats!" he secretly laughed at them.

* * *

The area he was currently roaming seemed pretty much forsaken. So Glitch had decided he could dare walk along the curiously yellow paved road, instead of stumbling through the undergrowth. He was happily munching away on some berries and whistling a song – though he had no idea how he knew the melody – when he heard hoofs coming toward him. He looked up and saw them: two Long Coats on their horses escorting a prisoner. His heart skipped a beat. He dove into the bushes on the roadside before anyone could notice him. From his safe hideout, he watched the procession approach.

The Long Coats were yelling at their prisoner who was dragged behind them. The poor man looked exhausted. He stumbled and fell to his knees. Still, the officers didn't stop their horses. A yank on the rope around his wrists brought him back to his feet. He glared at them and growled something Glitch didn't understand. Glitch felt sorry for him.

And before he realized what he was doing, he'd picked up a stone and threw it at the horse closest to him. The horse whinnied as the stone hit it in the neck and reared up, throwing its rider off. Then it dashed off down the road. The second horse followed suit. It, too, throwing off its rider in the wild dash. The prisoner had been thrown to the ground as well. He lay several meters away from his guards.

For a moment Glitch wondered what he was doing. He had to hide from the Long Coats, if he wanted to survive, and attacking them sure wouldn't help in keeping a low profile. Now they would come after him. He had to get away as long as they were still out cold. But the sight of the man in the strange golden shirt and the ridiculously tight pants stirred something inside of him he couldn't name yet. He couldn't just leave him behind, could he? So he just stood there unsure what to do – fight or flight?

While he was still pondering, the prisoner scrambled to his feet. "Looks like he won't need my help after all," Glitch thought to himself, ready to make a run for the forest. But instead of running away while the guards still gathered themselves, the funnily dressed man shuffled toward them. Glitch sighed. It would've been too easy! And here he'd thought _he_ was a stupid headcase… At least he knew how to protect himself – well, usually…

By now, the first man was up as well and had his gun pointed at the stranger once again. Glitch braced himself and ran toward them – not that he had any idea what he was going to do to stop them.

He jumped and landed a high kick on the guy's back, sending him to the ground. The second police man came running, yelling at them to freeze. His gun was pointed at Glitch. But before the man realized what was happening, Glitch had disarmed him with a roundhouse kick. He looked after his weapon, then blinked at Glitch stupefied. Glitch, though, already dove in for his next attack, sweeping his legs out from under him. A chop to his throat punched his lights out for good.

Glitch had no idea how he was doing this, hadn't even known he was capable of it, his body just moved on its own. He was a little impressed with himself. He did have a vague notion, though, he'd done this before.

Behind him, the first guard had gotten up again and was about to attack. Glitch realized the movement too late to react. He could only steel himself against the impact.

* * *

It never came though. The attacker just crumbled to the ground with a thud.

The prisoner had clobbered him over the head, sending him to the realm of dreams.

"Thanks," Glitch smiled at him, still trying to catch up with the events.

"That was… pretty impressive," the blonde said, his bound hands pointing at the unconscious.

"It's all about the rhythm," Glitch answered as he tampered with the bonds, though he himself had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"Why'd you do that anyway?" the blonde asked soberly, rubbing his freed sore wrists.

"You looked like you could use some help," Glitch smiled up at the taller man and was met with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen – no, that wasn't quite true. Glitch could literally feel his synapses firing all at once. He stood there, frozen in his tracks, his eyes glazed over.

The man put a hand on his shoulder. "You alright? Did you hit your head?" he asked worriedly.

The spark returned to his eyes as memory hit. "Wyatt!" he exclaimed and threw his arms around the other's neck, placing a kiss on his lips. He took the scruffy face in his hands and mumbled between kisses, "I've been searching for you! I was so worried! I thought they had locked you up in a tin suit…"

After a moment of shock, the other tried to free himself from the embrace. "Wow, wait a minute! What's gotten into you?" He held him at arm's length and scrutinized him.

But Glitch wriggled back into the embrace. "Oh, Wyatt, everything's gonna be alright now…" He snuggled closer.

"Stop it!" The blonde pushed him away, making him stumble back until he landed on his behind heavily.

Glitch sat there, blinking at the man dazedly. He inclined his head. "Do I know you? Name's Glitch! On account of sometimes my synapses don't fire right…"

"Right…," the stranger quirked an eyebrow at him and held out a hand to help him up. "I'm Jim Kirk. And no, you don't know me. But you just saved my ass. And now, we'd better get out of here, before these clowns wake up again." He pointed his thumb at the still unconscious officers.

Glitch looked at them as Jim bent down to take his phaser and communicator from the passed out man. "Long Coats!" he gasped and then took Jim's hand, dragging him along as he hurried away from them.


	11. Space Cowboy

Space Cowboy

They had entered another thick dark forest, when Jim stopped short. "Wait! I really don't think we should stay in here." He looked around himself, convinced to find glowing eyes pointed at him. But there was nothing. Everything was quiet and peaceful.

"No! This is the only place where we're safe. We have to stay in the shadows. We have to avoid the streets and villages if we don't want to get caught again." Glitch had taken his hands and looked at him anxiously.

Slowly but surely, Jim grew suspicious of this strange guy with the shaggy hair and the ragged clothes. "But they're the authorities around here, right? They're the good guys. Why are we running from them?" he inquired.

Glitch stared at him in disbelieve. "Am I the one without a brain or is it you?" he asked, pointing at the zipper on his head. Jim hadn't even noticed it until now. "They had you restrained and dragged you after a horse. You _think_ they're the good guys?"

"They had their reasons. I'm a suspicious looking guy, carrying a weapon, with no means to identify myself. I would have arrested myself too. I have to admit they were pretty rough, though," Jim shrugged. He'd been through this on countless planets. The inhabitants were always wary of their arrival. Being questioned about his origin was nothing new to him.

Glitch gave him a once-over. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, sure not!" He laughed, pulling at his golden uniform shirt for emphasis.

"Then, I guess I should explain a few things to you. The Long Coats…," Glitch conceded.

"You mean the guys who arrested me?" Jim interrupted.

"Who else? Anyway, they work for the Witch, which means yes, they are the authorities…," Glitch continued.

"Wait! Who's the Witch?" Jim interjected again.

"Would you stop that? I already have to concentrate to stay on track here. I don't need you keep interrupting me!" the headcase hissed. But it was too late. He blinked in confusion. "What were we talking about?"

"The Witch…," the captain reminded him.

"What witch?" the brunette was still confused.

Jim laid a hand on his arm, scrutinizing him. "You sure they didn't hit you on the head?"

Glitch had his head inclined. The mist of confusion slowly dissolved from the chocolate brown eyes. "The Witch! The Wicked Witch! She rules over the O.Z. – and before you ask, that's where you are!" He pointed a finger at Jim before he could even open his mouth to ask any questions. "The Long Coats are her mignons. And they're nothing like good guys. If they get you, they will do horrible things to you! See this zipper?" He pointed at it. "That's what happens when you disobey. I didn't give them what they wanted, and they took my brain!" He made a dramatic pause to let the information sink in. "So, you still want to be questioned by them?"

Jim was unsure what to do with this story. He knew nothing about this place, and this scatterbrain sure didn't seem too trustworthy either. This funny guy believed to have saved him, but was that really the case? He had to find out more before he could decide what to do. "So, what was it they wanted from you?"

"Erm, hello! No brain! How am I supposed to know?" He knocked on his head for emphasis. "They didn't mess with _your_ brain by any chance?" Glitch reached up and felt the blonde crop for a zipper for good measure.

He saw the doubt in the blazing blue eyes. "Look, I' not a convict! – I'm sure I'm not – I was a pretty important person under the reign of the former queen, I think…" He scratched his head in confusion, a little surprised himself by all the new information his head suddenly provided him with. But he was almost convinced it was the truth. He had been close to the queen, but then the Witch had taken over and everything had gone to blazes. Unfortunately, that was still all his memory offered.

"I know you wonder whether you can trust a headcase who doesn't even remember his name and can't focus for as much as five minutes. But what if I'm telling the truth? You really wanna risk that?"

Jim only looked at him, thinking. The scatterbrain had a point there, he had to admit. Maybe he wasn't as crazy as he seemed after all. He considered his options: he could ignore Glitch's warnings and turn to the authorities for help as he'd originally planned, risking to be arrested and de-brained like the poor fellow in front of him – not a pleasant idea. Or he could believe this mad story and keep away from the authorities, but that would leave him with yet another problem. He still needed access to any kind of astronomical devices they might have on this planet to contact the ship and get out of here – and the more he learned about this place, the more desperately he wanted to get the hell out of here. But what if they didn't even have a technology that could be of use to him? He could feel a headache building behind his brow and sighed. Maybe he should try and get some more information out of the scarecrow, for whatever value that might have.

* * *

"Say," he addressed Glitch who had wandered off chasing a butterfly while he'd been lost in his thoughts, forgetting about him, and now looked at him like a deer in the headlights. He inclined his head.

"You're…" His brow furrowed in concentration. "…Jim, right?" he smiled brightly.

"Yeah," Jim returned the smile wearily, "say, haven't you wondered where I come from?"

The curly head thought about it. "Sure, but maybe you don't wanna to talk about it, and I don't think I'd know the place anyway. I'm not even sure where this is…," he rambled on.

"I come from a starship. Do you know what a starship is?"

A spark lit in Glitch's eyes as he looked toward the sky, searching. "You mean you sail between the stars on a ship? …I've always dreamt of building one. Where is it? Can you take me there some time?" he asked excitedly.

"We'll see about that," Jim avoided the question. "First of all, I need to find a way to contact my ship. I'm stranded down here and can't seem to reach them. My communicator must be broken, and I don't have any tools to repair it." He took the device from his belt and showed it to Glitch.

Again the brown eyes were lit by a fascinated sparkle. He held out his hands. "Can I see it?" Jim handed it over, and Glitch opened it and turned it in his hands, a concentrated expression on his face. "I can repair it," he stated matter-of-factly.

Instantly, Jim regretted handing it over in the first place. "I don't know about that…" he began, reaching for the communicator.

But Glitch turned away from him and rummaged through his coat pockets, producing an exquisitely adorned leather case. "I got tools," he beamed and held it up. He opened it and revealed professional and well-kept precision tools.

Jim wondered why a brainless tramp had such a gear on him. Had he stolen it? "I don't know. Maybe we should find someone who actually… knows… what he's doing," he tried again, careful not to hurt the other's feelings. It was pretty obvious he already was self-conscious about his condition.

Glitch didn't take any offence, though. Instead he explained proudly, "You see, I think I'm the only one in the entire kingdom who actually understands the workings of something like this."

The captain looked at him stunned. Suddenly, he sounded so sure of himself. He noticed the change in Glitch's eyes: had the look been distracted and unfocused before, it was now determined and full of expertise. It was like a long dead flame had rekindled in them. The expression even reminded him a little of Spock when he was focusing on a new fascinating project.

While he observed him closely, he also saw that under all the dirt and the loose threads, the coat Glitch wore was made of finest wool and had once been richly embroidered. It greatly resembled the uniforms of aristocrats he'd seen on various planets. That would match his story of having been a very important figure in the previous government. He still didn't have much to go by, but he had a feeling that all the pieces were slowly falling into place. And as unbelievable as it might seem, the pieces indeed seemed to point to Glitch having told the truth.

Jim knew it was probably a bad idea to blindly trust a lunatic like this one. But there was something about him, Jim couldn't quite put a name to, that drew him to this funny little scatterbrain. His gut feeling told him to trust him, and Jim had always followed his gut, and it had barely ever failed him. So he decided to go with it this time, as well, and give Glitch a go at the communicator, even though in his head he could almost hear Spock lecturing him about all the ways he was being stupid here.

* * *

Glitch himself could hardly believe the confidence with which he promised he could repair the device. Yet, deep in his soul he knew he was right. He couldn't explain it. He just knew. Only this morning his mind had been completely blank. But ever since he'd met this strange man that lived among the stars, he had an increasingly better grip on who he might be.

His hands twitched with excitement at the prospect of taking the device Jim called a communicator apart and study its workings. It almost seemed like his hands knew what to do, though his mind didn't have the least clue.

Once Jim conceded, he set to work. He spread his coat on the soil and carefully placed the communicator and his tools on top to make sure not a single piece was lost or got dirty. Then he used the screwdriver to open the casing. Expertly, he took the maze of wires and processors apart, his hands moving in autopilot like the movements were engraved into his bones, his muscles. It didn't take long and he was completely absorbed in his work, fascinated by the refined piece of technology in front of him. He was pretty sure he'd never seen anything like it before – not that he'd remembered anyway.

* * *

At first, Jim hovered over him, nervously watching his every move. But when he saw how carefully, almost tenderly Glitch treated every piece he relaxed and gave him more room. He didn't dare talk to him, afraid that any kind of distraction might cause another of those glitches where he seemed to forget about anything he'd been doing a second ago.

He wouldn't be of much use anyway. Fine mechanics just weren't his expertise. He'd learned as a child from his uncle how to repair the antique Corvette – until he drove it over a cliff and received the beating of a lifetime, that is. He'd always enjoyed tinkering with engines, had even built his own bike as a teenager. And he loved to talk shop about the Enterprise engines with Scotty over a good Scotch. But when it came to the delicate wirings of things like computers or communicators he simply lost his patience. He just didn't have the steady hand required for this work.

He left Glitch to his work – he'd probably long since forgotten he was even there anyway – and wandered the vicinity. He was still cautious of whatever might be lurking in the shadows between the trees, keeping his ears open all the time. But this forest had nothing of the obscure oppressive atmosphere of the forest he'd stumbled through only a few days ago. This place seemed lighter, friendlier in a way. And he hadn't heard the growling of any predator all afternoon.

Still, the suns were slowly setting, and they would need firewood for the night. And his stomach painfully reminded him that they hadn't eaten all day. He collected any fruits and berries he deemed edible. He even shortly considered shooting a rodent he saw browsing a clearing. But he just couldn't bring himself to kill it. The fruits would have to do.

* * *

He returned with food and firewood to find Glitch still bent over the remains of his communicator. Something about his posture had changed, though. Before, he'd sat with his back straight, mumbling about the parts he was currently taking apart. Now, he seemed to have almost curled in on himself. His back was humped and his head rested on his hand, while the other played lazily with the spare parts. All confidence was gone from his posture. "This wire connects… this wire connects…," he kept mumbling in endless repetition.

Jim sensed immediately what had happened. Just as he'd feared before the scatterbrain had another fit. He sighed. Great, the communicator lay in pieces, and the only one who might have known how to put them back together probably didn't even remember his own name, not to mention what he was supposed to do with the mess he'd created. Things just got better and better. If only he'd listened to Spock's voice in his head, warning him not to entrust a man without a brain to repair highly advanced technology. What had he been thinking? He must've been really hypoglycemic to actually consider this a good idea. Now, he really needed a miracle to get away from here. The headache formed once again.

Glitch was not to blame though, he decided. The man couldn't be held responsible for having no brain. And right now, he didn't feel that much more intelligent either.

He approached him slowly, careful not to scare him. He probably didn't even remember who he was in the first place. "Hey, Glitch," he called softly to draw him out of his seemingly infinite loop.

The brunette fell silent and looked up at him, brown eyes wide in confusion. "Glitch… that's me!" he beamed, then inclined his head, thinking. "Do I know you?"

The captain threw what he hoped was the most reassuring smile at him, as he came closer, putting down the wood along the way. "I'm Jim. Remember? You saved my sorry ass out there."

Glitch looked at him, concentrated, nearly cross-eyed. "Jim…? Jim…?" he mumbled over and over again, as if the name could trigger the memory connected to it.

"Maybe that's what caused the fit in the first place," Jim thought. Glitch had been thinking real hard about the purpose of a special part and then the connection had just broken down, leaving him in an infinite loop of repetition. Jim felt sorry for him. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like to be caught in your own brain.

"The Space Cowboy," Glitch suddenly exclaimed, jumping up excitedly, bringing Jim out of his own marveling. He couldn't help but return the wide grin Glitch was showing him, overjoyed to have remembered.

The grin disappeared as fast as it had come out, though, when Glitch's gaze fell upon the pieces scattered on his coat. He sat down soberly. "I'm sorry about your… what'd you call it?" His hand waved over the mess helplessly as he struggled for the word.

"A communicator," Jim explained softly.

"Right... I don't think I can repair it after all. Sorry." He looked up at him apologetically, dejectedly. "I have no idea what I was thinking before. I'm just a scarecrow without a brain. What could I possibly do?" He threw up his scrawny arms in desperation, hiding his face behind the messy brown curls.

Jim sat down beside him and carefully put a hand on his shoulder. "No, don't say that. Look, I watched you working before and you knew perfectly well what you were doing. It's just that you forgot along the way. It will come back eventually," he tried to cheer him up, surprising himself with how easily his initial anger and desperation faded, as the pathetic bundle collapsed against his chest.

"You really think so?" He looked up at him from under his curls, tears shining in his eyes.

"Of course!" Jim smiled. "It's getting dark anyway, and there's nothing we can do about it today. I brought wood and food. So what do you say, you collect that junk and I start a fire? And then we'll grab a bite. You must be starving. We'll worry about the rest 'll have to help me, though. I have no idea what of the stuff I collected is actually edible."

As always, Glitch had completely forgotten about food. But as Jim mentioned it, he could feel his stomach clench up painfully with anticipation. He sat up and smiled at Jim, "You know, sometimes I really think you're even more out of your mind than I am."


	12. Wish upon a Star

Wish upon a Star

The Enterprise raced through space at top speed. But news of the captain's disappearance had traveled even faster aboard. Of course, Spock had made a shipwide announcement explaining the situation to the crew. That hadn't stopped the rumor mill, though. Everyone seemed to have their own idea of what might have really happened to the captain. Some of the gossip even went as far as claiming that Kirk was already dead, killed in a transporter malfunction, and now they were heading back into the unknown, risking their necks to charge after a ghost, just because the command level – in other words Commander Spock – was unwilling to admit that he was lost. It pained Spock to hear these theories which, he had to admit, might in fact hold a sense of truth to them. Indeed, he had no evidence to prove Jim was alive. The transporter log stated he'd arrived at the planet's surface safely, but who could tell what had happened after that?

What hurt even more, though, was the rumor that he himself had maroon Jim on that planet in an act of mutiny. The story said he had been holding a grudge against the captain ever since he had lost his command over the Enterprise to him back in the Narada incident. After all, back then, he had already unsuccessfully tried to get rid of him, marooning him on Delta Vega. Spock still felt guilty about that anyway. He didn't need those silly gossip mongers to remind him. This episode would be a sore point in their relationship forever, although Jim had assured him that he didn't hold it against him, considering the state he had been in at the time.

In Jim's absence, Spock was captain. And as such, he had to preserve normalcy and order. He mustn't allow any unease to spread among the crew in the face of their current situation. So he followed his usual routine. As always, he had dinner at the mess hall with Nyota and Doctor McCoy. But without Jim the mood between them was chastened. All of Uhura's attempts to strike up a conversation fell on deaf ears. Neither Spock nor McCoy felt like talking. They were each lost in their own broodings.

Spock could feel the eyes of the lower crew members resting on his back. The others didn't seem to hear it, but with his advanced aural sense Spock could hear the various rumors about the recent events being shared in the groups that had gathered around the tables. He only picked at his food listlessly before dumping it in the replicator nearly untouched. He excused himself and left for his quarters.

Even in the halls he could feel the eyes following him. He was glad when the bulkheads closed behind him, and he stood alone in the comforting warmth of his quarters. Spock felt exhausted. He lit some incense and tried to meditate. But his mind found no rest. It kept wandering back to the unknown planet, painting the dangers Jim might be surrounded by. He should be there with him, like he always was, right by his side to protect him. He felt helpless, and as illogical as he knew it was, even a little guilty for what had happened. If only there was anything he could do, but they were still hundreds of light years away from the planet, from Jim...

He broke his meditation and called the engine room. Not for the first time today, he demanded more speed. And like every time before, Scotty's tired sounding answer was, "I'm already givin' er all she's got, sir… but I'll see what I can do." Unsatisfied, but reasonable enough not to push the poor engineer any further, he let the matter pass.

Restlessly, he paced the room. He felt trapped in here, trapped in his own skin. As long as his mind didn't stop running in circles, he couldn't calm down. He turned up the environmental control to its maximum, hoping that the scorching heat would help him to relax, but to no avail.

* * *

Finally, he left his own quarters and snuck through the hall to the captain's, using his override code to open the door. Rank sure had its privileges. The Vulcan shuddered in the sudden cold. Still, he relaxed minutely. Being on his own, he noticed for the first time how sparsely the captain's quarters were furnished compared to his own. An outsider might actually wonder which one of them was the pragmatic Vulcan, judging from the furnishings. Yet, with Jim around the room had always felt so warm and comfortable.

He sat down on the bed, still rumpled from their night together, and smoothed the wrinkles out of the bed sheets. He could almost imagine their body heat still lingering in the sheets. Spock lay down and buried his head in the pillow, inhaling the musky scent. The scent enwrapped him, bringing with it the memories of the previous night. Spock allowed them to wash over him and take him back there. Lost in the memories, his mind eventually found some peace, and he fell into a light slumber.

It didn't last long, though. An hour later he was up again, his mind restless as before. He decided to distract himself and sat at Jim's terminal, busying himself with the paperwork the captain was thankfully always hopelessly behind on. By the time he was done, the increased illumination indicated dawn. Alpha shift was about to begin. Spock took a quick sonic shower and headed to the bridge, foregoing breakfast entirely.

* * *

He spent the entire day calibrating sensors und running system check-ups. None of that needed to be done, but it pleasantly kept his mind occupied, preventing his thoughts from wandering again. At noon, Nyota invited him to join her for lunch. He excused himself, claiming he was too busy.

She didn't exactly buy it, still, she knew him too well as to probe him just yet. During their relationship she had learned to read the subtle changes in his behavior and she knew when to leave him alone. She had seen this withdrawn expression before, especially while he was dealing with the aftermath of the Narada incident, and knew he needed room to sort things out on his own. When she returned, she simply handed him a cup of steaming soup. He held it in his hands, absorbing the delicious warmth, then discarded it untouched.

Internally, his emotions might be in uproar, on the outside, though, he had once more built the unbreakable walls of Vulcan control. His expression was completely blank, not even his eyes gave away any of his inner turmoil. He was as unapproachable as he had been when he first set foot onto the Enterprise, before Jim had torn these walls down brick by brick over the past months. Everyone seemed to sense the change in him and they kept their distance. Still, his friends kept a worried eye on him.

When there was nothing left for him to do on the bridge, he returned to Jim's quarters, not even considering to spend the night at his own. There he wouldn't find rest anyway. Here he could at least bath in Jim's lingering presence. It was already way into gamma shift. The clock told him that, under normal circumstances, he and Jim would be playing the usual game of chess by now.

Maybe it also worked diametrical and a game of chess would give him a sense of normalcy? He sat down at the table and started the chess program. Fortunately, he had programmed some of their games into the computer as a training program. It wasn't the real deal, but it had to do for now. And indeed, the strategic planning had a soothing effect on his nerves.

* * *

He continued this routine for the next three days: he arrived early for alpha shift and stayed way into gamma. The other bridge crew members had already started wondering whether he left the bridge at all. Uhura's worried looks constantly rested on him. Yet, she left him his privacy – at least for now. He spent all day reading intelligence reports, science reports, whatever came in, though he barely registered any of the data. It served merely as an occupational therapy to distract him. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep and he hardly talked to anyone outside the necessary orders. At night he hid away in Jim's quarters.

Spock was well aware that his behavior was ridiculous and disgraceful of a Vulcan. But he just couldn't help himself. The entire situation was just too bizarre. Of course, Jim had this unfathomable talent to get himself into trouble. That was nothing new. Yet, usually Spock was with him to protect him. Not that Jim Kirk actually needed anyone to protect him. He could well take care of himself. But the human body was so fragile. Jim often enough returned with injuries even when Spock was there to protect him. And even if he didn't accompany him on a mission, he could at least monitor him from the ship. For the first time since they served together, their connection had been severed entirely. He could be dying all alone, without Spock knowing it. Maybe that's what made him so restless? Or maybe it was the change in their relationship? He really shouldn't think about that, if he wanted to keep the last of his sanity.

* * *

McCoy entered the bridge, exchanging looks with Uhura as he passed her. So she had finally called him. Spock had already been wondering how long it would take until her worries got the better of her.

"Commander, on a word," the doctor approached him.

Spock sighed exasperated, yet he couldn't hold it against Nyota. She had only meant well. "Doctor, whatever it is, I believe it can wait," Spock feigned ignorance.

But McCoy didn't relent. "You know damn well what this is about and no, it can't wait!" He raised an annoyed eyebrow at him.

Spock mirrored the expression, but then complied. He might as well get it over with.

Together they left the bridge for the adjacent conference room, followed by the eyes of the entire bridge crew.

The moment the bulkheads closed behind them, the CMO cut right to the point, "Spock, what do you think you're doing?"

"What exactly are you referring to, doctor?"

"You know damn well 'what I'm referring to'! Did you sleep lately? Eat? Did you leave the bridge at all?" he snarled, waving the tricorder in front of Spock.

"In absence of the Captain, I am in command of this vessel. And, as even you should know, that requires my presence on the bridge," Spock deadpanned.

"Yeah, you're right. The ship does need a captain. But that doesn't mean you have to spend the entire time on the bridge. This is not an emergency situation. Sulu can handle it damn well without you for a couple of hours. You're only wearing yourself out and you'll be of no use when you collapse on us," McCoy tried to talk some sense into him.

Anger flared up in Spock as he heard that this was not an emergency. 'Of course it is,' he wanted to scream, but caught himself. He was still Vulcan after all and Vulcans _don't scream_. "You seem to have forgotten, doctor, that I am still Vulcan. Vulcan physiology is considerably stronger than its human counterpart. I require neither sleep nor sustenance. I am in perfect physical condition to perform my duties."

"Perfect, my ass!" the doctor chided, then relented, "Look, man, I know you're worried about Jim. We all are. But it's no use to close yourself off like that. Talk to us."

"Doctor, I do not see the need to insult me by transferring your own mental weaknesses onto me." Spock had enough of this conversation.

"Fine! Suit yourself!" McCoy raised his hands in defeat. "But I don't want to see you on the bridge today. You will get some rest." And with that he pressed a hypo to Spock's neck. "Sweet dreams," he murmured.

Grumbling something along the lines of "Damn hobgoblin!" he left the room.

Spock already felt the sedative the doctor had administered pulling at his extremities. For the moment, he could do nothing but comply. Maybe the doctor was right about his condition not being the best, considering he hadn't even seen the hypo coming.

He scuffed to Jim's quarters tiredly and collapsed on the bed. His body felt leaden, though sleep didn't come. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, almost unable to move.

* * *

The door bell chimed, announcing a visitor. Spock grunted wearily. He closed his eyes, hoping the visitor would leave again. 'Why does anyone come here anyway?' he wondered belatedly. These were the captain's quarters. Had anyone seen him go in here?

He got his answers when the door suddenly opened and Nyota stepped in. Spock didn't even want to know where she got the override codes to open the door. She always had her means to find out things she wasn't supposed to know.

She tiptoed to the bed as to not stir him and sat on the edge carefully. "Spock," she whispered, caressing his hair tenderly, half hoping he wouldn't answer. The doctor had told her he had administered a sedative, and she only wanted to make sure Spock was actually sleeping.

Her hopes were betrayed, though, when he opened his eyes and his dark gaze rested upon her. "Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping," she scolded him softly.

"As I already told the doctor, I do not require sleep," he returned, drawling the words ever so slightly.

Uhura looked him over and smiled, "You sure look like you do though."

"Thanks to the doctor and his never-ceasing hypos," Spock grumbled and tried to sit up. The world around him tilted. Nyota noticed it and steadied him, helping him into a sitting position.

Her eyes still rested on him and her brows furrowed. "Spock, talk to me. What's wrong with you?" she inquired tenderly. And before Spock could so much as open his mouth to reassure her he was fine, her tone sharpened, "And don't give me your usual 'I'm perfectly fine' speech. I know you're not!"

She scooted closer and took his hand. "You're worried about the Captain. That's all right. We all are… but there's more to it, isn't there?"

For a moment, Spock debated internally whether to tell her or not. But she had known about his feelings for the captain all along. Actually, they had been part of the reason they had broken off their relationship. She didn't hold it against him, though. After that, a deep friendship had developed between them, and she had always supported him. She deserved to know the truth. And her probing dark eyes told him she wouldn't let him off the hook before he told her anyway. He knew when he'd lost a battle.

But even before he could say anything, she had already read it in his eyes. "No way! You and the Captain? When? Why didn't you tell me?" she beamed, cuffing him lightly into the still mostly numb arm.

So he related to her the events of that night, though, of course, he left out the juicy details, no matter how she pleaded with him to tell her or threatened him to grill it out of him. She may have been his closest friend, but there were things he couldn't discuss even with her. Even in the dark she could see a green blush spread on his ghastly pale face, while he reveled in the sweet memories. But then he remembered the transporter accident, and sadness clouded his expression again.

She wrapped him in her arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "We'll find him," she whispered determined. Spock melted into her arms. He had almost forgotten how soothing her embrace could be. A new wave of tiredness rolled over him.

Uhura noticed it and drew his head into her lap. With skilled fingers, she massaged his temples, rubbing carefully over his psi-points. She projected every ounce of love and hope she could muster into the touch. Spock relaxed immediately, and after a few minutes he was fast asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Spock woke up, feeling relaxed, rested and more like himself. Still nothing had been solved, but the situation for some reason didn't feel as gloomy as before. Maybe he should have relied on his friends sooner, instead of cloistering himself. The worry was still present, but now it was subdued and his mind was clearer, more in order.

McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov and Scotty were sitting at their usual table over breakfast, when Spock entered the mess. The doctor nearly choked on his coffee.

"You sure are a miracle worker, Lieutenant," he whispered to her, while Spock ordered his breakfast from the replicator and came toward them. She just smiled knowingly.

"You sure look better this morning," McCoy greeted him, as Spock joined them at the table.

"Don't claim credit for that, doctor, this is not thanks to you and your meddling," Spock stymied him.

"Hey, I'm a doctor. Meddling's my prerogative," McCoy poked his fork at him, grinning. The two were back to their usual bantering. The entire table broke into laughter, a sound they hadn't heard in days. And for a moment, everything seemed to be back to normal.

When Spock had left the table, McCoy leaned into Uhura again, "Do I even want to know how you did that?"

"I'll tell you later," she winked, patting his cheek.


	13. The Sweetest Smell

The Sweetest Smell

The night had been cold once the embers had died down. In his sleep, Jim had cuddled up to Glitch and snuck under his coat he'd covered himself with, seeking some warmth. In return, Glitch had buried his head in Jim's chest, Jim's arms wrapped around his thin body. Now, the first sunslight warmed them.

Jim slowly drifted toward consciousness. He hadn't felt this warm and comfy in what seemed like ages. Finally, he was home. The nightmare was over. Spock sure made for a nice hot-water bag. He drew the figure in his arms even closer, inhaling the sweet cinnamon smell. The curls tickled his nose. Curls? He'd never noticed. Did Spock usually straighten his hair? He had to smile at the idea. Something cold brushed his lips, leaving a taste of metal.

Jim bolted up, suddenly wide awake. "Glitch!" He sighed heavily. What a nice dream! But here he was again, in the middle of nowhere with this scatterbrain and no hope to ever contact the ship. This was going to be another long day. He'd kill for a cup of coffee. But that was wishful thinking. Instead, he munched on some of the berries left-over from last night, waiting for Glitch to wake up.

* * *

Eventually, the curly head awoke. He rubbed his eyes blearily and looked around himself confused. Once again, his mind was completely blank. He had no idea where or who he was.

Careful, not to startle him, Jim put on a smile and said, "Good morning, Sunshine."

It wasn't exactly the key phrase that usually triggered Glitch's memory, yet it was close enough. He looked into the bright blue eyes and his synapses short circuited, "Wyatt!"

Before Jim had realized what was going on, the smaller man was sailing at him, throwing him off the log he'd been sitting on. He landed heavily on his back, a bundle of Glitch on top of him. He straddled Jim, pinning him to the ground. His hands caressed Jim's face and he kept mumbling, "Wyatt! Thank the Gale!" Tears sparkled in his chocolate colored eyes. The captain wanted to protest, but Glitch sealed his lips in a passionate longing kiss, before he placed feather light kisses all over his face. Jim tried to free himself, but he couldn't move. Glitch's hands moved down his neck, over his chest and abs, until they found the hem of his shirt. They found their way underneath the cloth and greedily groped at the skin they found there.

Jim decided this had gone far enough. He bucked his hips, throwing the lighter man off balance, and rolled them over, securing Glitch's wrist over his head. A vicious gleam appeared in Glitch's still moist eyes. "Wyatt… you naughty boy scout," he purred.

"Glitch, look at me. It's me, Jim! Remember? I'm not Wyatt!" Jim grabbed his chin, trying to make him focus. But it was no use. The scatterbrain just kept writhing under him, seeking friction.

"Mr. Cain, I never knew you were into role plays," he teased and Jim could already feel a slight bulge pressing against his thigh.

Jim was about to lose his temper. He had to bring the nutcase out of this. In an act of desperation, he slapped him. Immediately, Glitch lay still, blinking at him in confusion. Then recognition hit him. He took in their position and blushed a dark shade of red. "Jim, we barely know each other. I really don't think that's appropriate," Glitch complained consternated.

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Jim grunted, getting off him. Glitch sat up, still looking bewildered and rubbed his burning cheek. He gathered his coat around himself protectively. His anxious gaze followed Jim's every move.

"Hey, don't gimme that look! You're the one who jumped me!" Jim growled, leaning against a tree exasperatedly.

"I did?" Glitch asked innocently, though his posture relaxed. "Sorry." He blushed again, averting his eyes. When he looked up again a wide grin split his face. "There's one good thing about this though…" Jim raised a curious eyebrow. "…at least we know now, I have great taste," the scatterbrain winked.

Jim had to laugh at that, though it faded quickly. He scrutinized his counterpart. "Now tell me, who is this Wyatt you keep confusing me with?"

"What?" Glitch inclined his head. In all the fuss, he had completely forgotten about his sweetheart. "I have no idea… Should I know him?"

"From the way you threw yourself at me, thinking I was him, I'd say you know him pretty well… Wyatt… Cain. Does that ring a bell?"

Glitch thought hard enough to make his eyes go cross, biting his nails. For a long while, he remained like that, and Jim suspected he'd already forgotten what he'd been thinking about in the first place. Finally, he sighed dejectedly, "I have no idea who this Cain might be. Sorry."

Jim came closer and sat in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. "Yes, you do. Look at me! The answer's somewhere in that thick head of yours. We only need to find the trigger."

The airhead looked into his blue orbs, and once more his gaze clouded. The pictures came back to him. "Blue Eyes… Wyatt… you have his eyes…," he mumbled. He shook his head to clear his mind and then told the captain the convoluted story he had made up from his sparse memories.

"So, you're saying that this Cain is your lover and that he's somewhere locked up in this Tin Suit… doesn't sound too pleasant…," Jim concluded.

Glitch nodded solemnly, "Believe me, it's not!"

"Then we have to find him," Jim thought aloud. Somehow, he had grown to like this goofy headcase. He really wanted to help him. Of course, his communicator was still in pieces and that was his top priority. But Glitch was the only one to put it back together – if he could collect his marbles long enough that was. And right now, that sure wasn't the case, and Jim had not the slightest notion how long his confused state would continue. Until then, they might as well do something useful and search for that Cain guy. Who knew, maybe they would actually find him, and he could clear some of the chaos in Glitch's head. It didn't seem exactly likely, but he was Jim Kirk after all. If anyone could achieve the impossible, it was him! "You don't, by any chance, have an idea where we can find this Tin Suit?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

Yet, he got one: "All of life's answers are found along the Old Road." Glitch didn't know where that had come from or what it meant. When he noticed Jim's questioning look, he just shrugged, implying 'don't even ask'. "The Old Road is that yellow paved street where we met. It goes through the entire kingdom," he explained instead.

"That's as good a lead as any," Jim decided. And thus, they departed, following the direction of the yellow brick road, yet staying clear of the actual street, still afraid of running into Long Coats.

* * *

Cain fumed, when he read yet another report of Glitch having been sighted. He sat at the sheriff's desk in the Tin Man station of a small town somewhere in the outskirts of the O.Z. The last report had brought him here, but once he'd arrived, there had been no trace left of the fugitive. He'd spent days searching the area, coming up with absolutely nothing. He was getting tired of this little game of tag. How could a scarecrow be this good at covering his traces?

Over the past three and a half weeks, he'd received dozens of these reports. He'd been following all of them, but the result was always the same. He'd heard the same story over and over again: Glitch had been sighted and when the officers tried to approach him, he ran away. He'd either escaped on his first attempt or, when the officers had been less fortunate and had been able to pursue him, Glitch had attacked them. Thus, Cain often sat across his subordinates which were covered in bruises and wrapped in thick bandages, some of them even lying in infirmary beds. They made their reports visibly embarrassed that they, Tin Men, the pride of the O.Z., had been defeated by a stupid headcase.

Cain shared their embarrassment, yet it was outweighed by his anger. He couldn't believe the incompetency he had to deal with. Those were the people working for him? Most of them were but kids barely out of their diapers. He knew they had to recruit nearly the entire Tin Man force from civilians, since there had been only a small number of trained police men left that had survived the old government. But he himself had briefed the instructors on the importance of an accomplished training. Obviously his preachings had fallen on deaf ears. Now that he saw these hicks, who were supposed to be the authority in the more rural areas, he wasn't surprised that they couldn't arrest the last of the rogue Long Coats they had been searching for for months. Most of these bumpkins probably couldn't even find their way home on their own.

* * *

He glared daggers into the poor young lieutenant who had brought him the report as soon as it came through the wire. Cain estimated him to be about the same age as his son. That was the only resemblance he could find though. Unlike Jeb this innocent boy knew nothing about the reality of war. He'd probably never even pulled the gun he casually wore on his belt, more as a hip accessory than the deadly weapon it was supposed to be.

The boy trembled slightly. All the Tin Men admired Commander Cain as the great hero who had saved the O.Z. The stories of his adventures had made many of these young men join the force, dreaming they would one day be heroes themselves. Seeing him up close, though, the man wasn't only intimidating and awe-inspiring, he was plain scary. His pale blue eyes burned with barely suppressed rage, betraying his short temper and maybe even the least trace of madness. Everyone watched their steps around him, terrified of the consequences if they were to make a mistake.

Another failure! Cain crumpled up the report. He wanted to strangle the little idiot, punch his fist through a wall – anything to get the tension out of his system. "Dismiss!" he barked, before he could actually commit himself to bloodshed, and the lieutenant scurried out of the room, nearly slamming the door shut behind him. Cain sagged into his chair.

Tiredly, he looked at the map where he had marked all the places where Glitch had been seen. There was no visible pattern to them. His flight didn't seem to have any special destination. It only led further and further away from Central. That didn't come as a surprise. The doctors had already warned Cain that his mind would most likely be in a more devastated state than before the operation. They had surmised that he had probably forgotten pretty much everything about himself and the world around him.

The present reports only seemed to confirm their theory. Glitch aimlessly wandered the kingdom, leaving behind crippled Tin Man in his wake. From the state they were in, Cain could only imagine the anxiety Glitch had to be in, out there all alone without any memories. He probably thought they were after his life or maybe even worse, he held them responsible for his condition. He would never go this far, if he didn't fear for his life.

The only relief was he obviously still had wits enough to avoid them. Reports of him appearing somewhere had become rare lately. In fact, he hadn't heard anything at all over the past week. He had already imagined something might have happened to his scarecrow. So the news that he was alive and kicking – literally – eased Cain's mind. He might have disappeared again, but at least he was fine. In the past, Cain had always been impressed how the headcase had managed to survive all those years out in the wilderness on his own and how he had avoided the Long Coats. Obviously, he still had that ability.

Now that he was searching for him himself, though, his pride slowly turned into annoyance. In his long career, he'd always prided himself on being able to find any convict. Yet, this special one gave him quite a headache. He'd been following every little trace Glitch had left behind. But he always seemed to be one step behind. Whenever he arrived at the scene, the leads on Glitch had already petered out. Just how could a man without a brain outwit him like this? He knew the headcase was always good for a surprise, but for the first time he truly wished he was a little more predictable. If only he knew what was going on in Glitch's head.

* * *

Wearily, he rubbed his face. He was dead tired, hadn't really slept in days. And how could he, when all of this was his fault in the first place? If he hadn't been asleep when Glitch woke from his coma, none of this would have happened. Now he might never find him again. And even if he did, no one could say whether he would recognize him at all.

That thought closed around his chest like a steel ring, taking his breath away. It was, as if he could feel the walls of the Suit around him again. If only the little punk had never let him out of it, messing his life up completely, just to push him right back into it. In the annuals of imprisonment he had learned to deal with the demons of his loneliness. And then Glitch with his big heart and his radiating smile had driven them out, brightening his life. But with him gone, Cain could feel them lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for him to succumb to them.

But he couldn't allow himself to think that way. Not yet. No matter how long it took, he would find the little convict. His reputation was at stake here. And maybe his sanity, too, though Cain wouldn't admit to that. And once he had found him, he would also find a way to set his head straight again. How he didn't know yet. But there had to be a way. What had Glitch said before? 'Love comes directly from the heart.' And his heart was still intact. Even when he had forgotten everything else he had always remembered his boy scout. Now would be the same, it just had to.

For the moment, he had no time to ponder about these things though. If he really wanted to find his runaway scarecrow, he had to get to Munchkin country as fast as possible, before the leads could peter out again. Maybe the Great Gale was finally on his side and he would find him. At that, Cain had to smile in spite of himself. Glitch would never cease mocking him, if he saw him like this, running on pure optimism.

He grabbed his hat and holster, and went to the stables. His tired horse whinnied in protest when it saw him, but obediently allowed him to saddle it. The loyal creature had more than earned itself a royal treatment once this adventure was over, carrying him across the country for weeks now, through thick forests and steep mountains. He patted the horse's neck affectionately before swinging into the saddle and spurring it.

* * *

When Cain arrived at the Munchkin station he was confused by the strange looks the officers threw him. Both were in pretty much the same pitiful state as all the others that had crossed Glitch's path. One of them was lying in bed. "A cracked vertebra," he explained. Around his head, he wore a thick bandage. The other had his arm in a cast and his voice sounded strangely hoarse. Cain thought he already knew the story before they had even started.

What he heard, though, came as a surprise. They'd arrested a suspect in one of the villages and were on their way to the station to question him, when the Advisor attacked them and freed the prisoner. Now that was new. Glitch had never confronted the Tin Men of his own account. He had only defended himself when they tried to seize him. But what was the meaning of this change in his behavior? Had he had another fit and forgotten all caution? Or was there another reason? And why would he free a prisoner?

Cain asked for a description of the prisoner. One of the officers described him as a blonde with blue eyes and strange clothes. "To be honest, sir, the man looked an awful lot like you," he added a little sheepishly, as if he feared it might have actually been Cain.

Suddenly, all seemed to fall into place. Did that mean the scarecrow did remember him after all? And he'd just confused him in the heat of the moment? That actually brightened his spirits, if only a little. His tense features relaxed marginally as he thanked them and wished them a speedy recovery, before leaving them to examine the scene.

The officers were stunned. After all the rumors they'd her about how the Commander had grilled all those who had failed to catch the Advisor before, they had been imagining the worst. And now he thanked them and even seemed to be almost smiling? Maybe he was slowly losing it?


	14. Along the Old Road

Along the Old Road

After walking down the Old Road for three days without finding any of the promised answers, they reached a junction where a small dirt road branched away from the main road. Glitch stopped dead in his tracks, looking around. "I know this place," he said, "I've been here before." He stumbled across the road, from here to there, examining the trees and stones. Then he stood in the middle of the dirt road and stared off into the distance.

"This way!" He waved for Jim, as he ran down the path. "Come on. It's somewhere around here. I just know it," he called over his shoulder, when Jim didn't follow.

Jim stood on the pavement unmoving. He rubbed his head tiredly. Over the past days, they had been through this countless times. Glitch would see some landmark and claim he remembered it, that this was the place they had to search. And after they had been wandering around for a while, coming up with nothing, he always had to admit he had been mistaken. The captain was fed up with this game by now. He already regretted ever suggesting this venture. He had better things to do than stumble through this wilderness, searching for a phantom that most likely didn't even exist. He had to get back to his ship.

Originally, he had hoped that keeping Glitch's mind busy would help get his brain in gear, so he would finally be able to put his communicator back together. But the longer their journey continued, the more evident it became that he had been utterly mistaken. Glitch was way too excited and distracted to even think about his communicator. All he had in mind was finding this Cain guy.

He made up his mind. This time he wouldn't follow Glitch into another fruitless chase after his imaginary friend. "Glitch!" he called sternly.

Reading his mood correctly, Glitch called, "This time I'm sure. I swear." He threw Jim his most irresistible lopsided smile, and involuntarily he felt his feet moving forward. Could anyone possibly resist this scatterbrain, if he looked at them like this? He sighed and followed obediently. Glitch led the way with a determination he hadn't shown before.

* * *

The path ended in a muddy yard in front of a dilapidated wooden hut. Judging from the state it was in, it must have been abandoned decades ago. The windows were broken and the door was unhinged. Jim went to take a closer look. Inside the place was a mess. Dried leaves mixed with broken furniture and scattered papers. But the bed in the farthest corner of the room looked like it had recently been used. The embers in the fire place seemed to be fresh as well, and there were leftovers in the kettle that hadn't started decaying yet. Someone must have been staying here not too long ago. That peaked his curiosity. He examined the room.

On a shelf he found a shattered picture frame. He brushed off the glass shards to find the picture of a family: a couple and their son. The boy was about seven, Jim guessed, and had his father's stern features. The mother was a beautiful brunette with a radiating smile. The father had put his arms protectively around his family. On his chest he wore a silver star that reminded Jim of a sheriff in the old 2D western movies he had loved watching as a kid. His posture emitted self-confidence, as his blue eyes looked straight into the camera.

And Jim noticed something else: not only the hair and the eyes, but even the features seemed awfully familiar. The man in the picture looked almost like himself, only a little older and more serious maybe.

It couldn't be. Was this actually the man Glitch was searching for? But this man had a family. That didn't match up to Glitch's statement of Cain being his lover. Still, the resemblance was remarkable. Glitch had told him time and again how much he looked like his Wyatt. That couldn't be a coincidence. It had to be him. So maybe the man did exist after all. He had to ask him directly.

* * *

He stepped out of the shady cabin and blinked at the sunlight. The scatterbrain was nowhere to be seen. Jim sighed. He should have never left him out of sight in the first place. He should have known better by now. After all, this wasn't the first time the brainless had disappeared, completely forgetting about Jim and their quest. Just where had he wandered off to this time? "Glitch," he called, half fearing he wouldn't get an answer.

"Over here!" Glitch answered. Jim went around the cabin and found the brunette crouching in front of something that reminded him of the ancient iron lady he had seen in Earth history books. That had to be one of those Tin Suits Glitch had told him about.

Glitch had his back turned on Jim, and his frame radiated sadness. "I told you this was the right place. He's been here. But now he's gone," he said, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. His fingers caressed the door bolts.

Jim stepped behind him and held out the picture. "Is that him?"

Glitch took it. He looked at it for a long time. His fingers retraced the man's outlines. "Yeah," he finally whispered. "Jim, where is he? What did they do to him?" he asked, fear evident in his tone. He stood up on shaky legs and for the first time in this conversation he looked Jim straight in the eye.

"I don't know," he returned helplessly. It pained him to see the grinning face he had gotten so used to over the past days contorted with grief. Tears glistened in the chocolate brown eyes, threatening to spill over. Yet, he maintained his composure. There was a dignity to the man Jim hadn't noticed before in the way he held his back and shoulders straight, refusing the grief to weigh him down. Jim felt a new respect for him.

Then something dawned on him. "Wait a minute. Maybe he hasn't been taken away at all. I found traces in the cabin of someone staying there recently. Maybe he somehow freed himself…"

Glitch threw him a dubious look, shaking his head. "You don't just break free from a Tin Suit. See these bolts? It's impossible."

"Okay… or maybe someone helped him get out. And now he's living in that cabin. Or at least the person who released him is and can tell us where he is. I say we stay and wait for whoever it is that stays here. For the time being, that's our best option to find out anything," the captain suggested.

Glitch nodded warily. He didn't exactly like the idea of staying here, something about the place just didn't feel right. Yet, he had no better plan and Jim had a point about finding a lead on Wyatt.

* * *

They retreated into the cabin to wait for whoever inhabited it. Soon, Glitch got bored from sitting around, doing nothing but wait. He cleared the ramshackle kitchen table and pulled out of his pocket the case with his tools and the cloth he'd wrapped up the debris of Jim's communicator in. After three days in which he had seemed to have forgotten he carried them around in the first place, he finally remembered.

Jim had almost given up hope this would ever happen. Over the past days, he had been wondering if Glitch's genius had been but a meteorite, a fire burning brightly for an instant before dying out in the atmosphere forever. He examined him closely, considering whether he would be in the right state of mind to actually put the thing back together. There was still this new dignity he held himself with Jim had noticed before. Something inside him had changed ever since they had found the Tin Suit that was supposed to hold this Cain guy, empty. The frantic urge to move forward was gone.

* * *

Glitch had kept pushing himself, trying to extract memories from his mind that just weren't there – and probably never had been to begin with. It caused him to glitch frequently. The strain on his already jarred brain was simply too much. Then Glitch would either stare at Jim without recognition or – which was even more disturbing – he would confuse him with Cain, throwing his arms around him and drawing him in for a feverish kiss.

The disturbing point though was less the kiss itself, but that Jim started liking it. During their long journey, Glitch rambled on endlessly about this and that – Jim usually understood only half of it, at best, the scatterbrain switched topics faster than he could follow. But if he tuned out the actual words, the lecturing tone reminded him strangely of a certain Vulcan. His mind wandered off to his ship and the people waiting there for him; the warm embrace he kept dreaming about. He felt homesick. He'd finally broken through Spock's icy armor and tasted the sweet warmth lying underneath. And now that he had tasted it, he wanted more. He wanted to get back home already. And Glitch's touchy-feelyness was somehow comforting, soothing. Being around Glitch and learning about the similarities – as ridiculous as that seemed to be – between him and Spock, at least gave him a sense of connection to his original life. It grounded him and gave him hope.

At night half asleep, he would sneak up to Glitch's sleeping form and snuggle into the inviting warmth of his body. Then he would always dream of home, of the warm arms that awaited him there. And every morning, he would wake up to the cold damp reality of this planet, facing the goofy smile of the curly head instead of his stoic Vulcan, and feeling sad and empty.

* * *

Glitch was calmer now, more relaxed than he had ever been since they had met. His brown eyes were clear, no trace of confusion or another fit waiting to burst forth. There was only determination and focus, as he picked up his tools and set to work.

Jim decided it would be better to leave him alone and backed off a little. He busied himself examining the room again, closer this time. He found faded letters, yellowed books, crumpled kid's drawings – remnants of a family life long since abandoned. He wondered what had happened to the family. He wanted to ask Glitch, but didn't dare interrupt him. He probably didn't have any answers anyway. The brunette was immersed in the mechanics of the communicator, mumbling while his hands moved rapidly, expertly putting the puzzle piece by piece back together. He had already made great progress. The mess slowly reshaped into his communicator.

After watching him for a while, the captain returned his attention to his surroundings. He dug up more pictures. One of them showed Cain alone. This time he was apparently in some kind of uniform: a brown coat and a matching hat. Under the coat, Jim could make out a gun holster and pinned to the lapel was again the silver star he had noticed earlier. Seeing it up closer now, he realized he had seen it before. The 'Long Coats', as Glitch had called the men who had arrested him, had worn the same insignia – and, now that he thought about it, pretty similar uniforms as well.

But that would mean Cain was one of them. Could Glitch be this mistaken to confuse his captor with a lover? Jim's mind raced as it tried to put the pieces together. Anything was imaginable with Glitch's messed up state of mind. He had a bad feeling about this.

He turned to the inventor who was still engrossed in his work and slammed the picture down on the table in front of him, "Did you know your beloved Cain was a Long Coat?"

Glitch threw him a vexed glare. "No way! What are you talking about?"

"Look at this uniform! It's the same the men who arrested me wore," Jim elaborated.

Looking at the picture, Glitch chuckled, "No, silly! That's a Tin Man uniform…" He took a moment to process the new information his brain spilled. "…My Wyatt is a Tin Man!" he beamed proudly.

"What the devil's a Tin Man?" the captain asked.

Glitch started a lecture on the former queen's reign – or at least the bits and pieces he remembered, which wasn't exactly much, just some bedlam stories about princesses, witches and knights with shiny silver stars, more a fairytale than actual events, Jim mused. But then again, one could never know with this strange planet. And it wasn't like he hadn't heard weirder stories on other worlds.

With this additional information, a new theory began to form in Jim's mind. "Glitch," he interrupted the other's ramblings, "wouldn't that mean my captors were Tin Man too?"

"That's impossible! Or isn't it…?" The scatterbrain didn't have an answer to that.

Both pondered the possibilities of this latest mystery for a while, without finding any answers, though. From the tension in the air, Jim could almost feel Glitch's concentration spiraling toward another fit. Before that could actually happen, he spoke up to lighten the mood, "I guess we'll just have to wait for the answer to walk through that door, right?"

Glitch smiled weakly, the tension slowly dissolving from his features. "You're probably right." He picked up his tools again, as if to distract himself. "In the meantime, I better finish this," he pointed at the pieces still spread out on the table, "before I forget how to do it."

At the prospect of getting his communicator back, Jim suddenly felt restless himself. He got up. "You do that. I'll be outside. I can't sit still anymore."

* * *

He left the cabin and roamed the vicinity, still pondering on the matter of the Long Coats and the Tin Men. For some reason, both obviously existed which didn't fit into Glitch's story of the Tin Men having been destroyed by the Long Coats at some point in the past. But Jim had always been wondering about the substance of it anyway. The question now was which of them were in charge? If it was the Tin Men, they could risk going out into the open and get some help. But if it were the Long Coats, they would get into a lot of trouble. He walked along the lakeside, through meadows and a small forest, munching on fruit he found along the way, and tried to find an answer. When he returned to the cabin, the second sun was already setting.

As he came closer, he could hear loud voices from within. Judging from the volume, they were arguing. This was bad! Glitch! He drew his phaser and ran for the cabin.

Before he could even reach it, though, he felt a heavy blow to his head, and the world went black.

* * *

Glitch was so absorbed in his work he hadn't even noticed anything amiss, until he looked up – straight into the barrel of a gun. He froze in his seat. A dirty and grim looking man in a black leather coat that had seen better days stepped into the room – a Long Coat!

A wicked sneer parted the stranger's lips, "Advisor Ambrose, it's an honor to have you here in my humble shelter." He bowed slightly. "The entire O.Z. has been frantically searching for you. The palace is worried sick, Commander Cain is turning the entire kingdom upside down, I hear," he explained mock-politely.

Glitch sat paralyzed. He didn't even dare breathing. He was caught. There was no escape from the cabin. The only exit was blocked by the Long Coat.

"What's wrong with you, Advisor? After all I've heard about you, I thought you'd put up more of a fight. You're disappointing me," he grinned menacingly.

When the Long Coat had entered, Glitch's brain had shut off in shock. All this time his mind had been fuzzy, he had been smart enough to stay away from them. And now that the dust had settled and his mind was clearer, he'd been tricked this easily. He only noticed what happened through a thick haze. He felt like he was drowning and couldn't move. Yet, there had been some important information on who he might be in what the man had said. If only he could focus on what it had been – something about Wyatt and the palace. He tried to gather all his mental energy around the new information to make sense of it. But it was no use. The harder he concentrated, the deeper he sank into the quicksand of his consciousness. He could feel his brain spiraling down into a glitch. His breath hitched and then everything went blank.

* * *

"…t up! I said, get up!" a voice sounded from somewhere behind the thick darkness clouding his mind.

Glitch only came to, when he was yanked from the chair roughly. "Hey! It's rude to shake a poor scarecrow like this!" he complained, then paused. "Do I know you?" He inclined his head.

The stranger grinned wickedly, "Don't worry, we'll have enough time to get to know each other." He caressed Glitch's cheek almost tenderly.

Glitch didn't understand what was going on, but he sure didn't like the way the other looked at him. He tried to struggle free and kicked for the man. A strong hand grabbed his curls and yanked his head back, the gun digging into his jaw. "Move! And don't try anything funny!"

He couldn't do anything but comply as he was led outside to a horse and loaded onto it. He had no clue who or where he was, or what was going to happen to him. All he knew was his head was pounding like crazy. Several times, Glitch tried talking to his captor, hoping to get some answers. All he got for a reply, though, was the man further spurring the horse, until he felt dizzy and nauseous.


	15. The Knight in Shining Armor

The Knight in Shining Armor

When Jim regained consciousness, it was already dawning. He had been out cold all night. His head felt like it was about to explode. It was bad enough he actually wished Bones were there, abusing him with his ever-present hypo.

He waited for his vision to clear and scanned his surroundings. It was way too quiet for his liking. Where was Glitch? He got up on shaky legs and stumbled to the cabin. It was empty. The only trace left of Glitch was his communicator that rested on the table, almost complete now. The packed up the remaining pieces and went back outside. He had to find Glitch. Whoever had floored him – most likely Long Coats, he figured – had obviously kidnapped the airhead as well. But they had a lead of hours on him. How was he supposed to even find them? He tried to focus his muddled mind on the situation and failed. His body was slowly recovering, though his brain was still wrapped up in a thick layer of cotton. "At least now I know how Glitch must be feeling," he thought to himself humorlessly.

Disappointed in his own inability to formulate a plan, he hung his head – and found the clue he had been searching for: hoof prints! They lead away from the cabin and down the dirt road back to the yellow pavement. Before he took up pursuit, he checked for his phaser – gone, of course. He had expected nothing less. He searched the grass and bushes around the cabin, but it was nowhere to be found. So he had to storm a fort of heavily armed madmen without any weapon. Just great! But he would cross that bridge when he got there. He would sure come up with something. He always did – considering his brain ended its strike any time soon.

* * *

When Glitch finally regained awareness of himself, he was in a dark cave. The walls were damp and the place smelled moldy. "Not exactly what one would expect from the lapdogs of the Witch," he thought, examining his cell.

Where was Jim? He was alone in his cell and couldn't hear any sounds from the neighboring cells either. He went to the bars and whispered his name into the dark hall, but got no answer. 'To get yourself caught this easily… nice job, scarecrow!' he scolded himself inwardly, sagging to the grimy floor.

The door swung open, and a Long Coat entered. In the dim light Glitch recognized him as the one who had captured him. He got to his feet, ready to fight or flight. He didn't take his eyes off the man, as he locked the door behind him and moved deeper into the room.

"Where's my companion?" he demanded, his eyes blazing furiously.

"You mean that freak in the weird getup? Don't worry about him. He's probably mobat fodder by now," the Long Coat sneered.

Rage flared up inside Glitch. "What have you done to him?" He launched at his captor, who sidestepped him easily, and almost ran into the opposite wall.

"Easy… easy," the man smiled satisfied, "Looks like you got your spirits back, Advisor Ambrose. So maybe this will get interesting after all." He came closer.

Glitch took a deep breath to calm himself and process what was happening. 'Advisor Ambrose', he'd heard that before, but what did it mean? He had no idea. "Why do you keep calling me that?" he yelled.

The other raised his hands calmingly, the smile never wavering. "I'm sorry. I forgot you don't remember," he apologized mockingly, bowing slightly. He was clearly enjoying Glitch's struggle to keep up with the conversation. "You, my dear Ambrose, are advisor to her majesty," he explained generously.

"Azkadelia?" Glitch hissed under his breath, disbelieving, "…that's impossible!"

For the first time the Long Coat's smile seemed a little strained, as he answered sweetly, "No, silly. I'm talking about Lavender Eyes."

Glitch's brain was spinning with all the conflicting information. "But wasn't she overthrown by the Witch?"

"Oh, she was." The smile had left the man's features for good now, as he came toward Glitch, cornering him against the sticky wall. "The O.Z. was heading into a great future under Azkadelia's reign. But then you and your damn friends had to ruin everything. _You_ brought her down. And now, we're gonna bring _you_ down, one by one, starting with you." He bore a finger into Glitch's chest to accent every word.

The mad grin returned. "Isn't it ironic? Of all the people out there you had to run into me. Now the palace is never gonna find you – at least not alive. It will break poor Cain's heart. I can't wait to see his face when we throw your mutilated body to his feet…"

But Glitch wasn't even listening, while he rambled on about his plans for revenge. He was stuck up on the first bit of information: he had saved the O.Z. from the Witch. That made him a hero! He had always known he was someone important. Advisor to the Queen, that sounded good! A proud smile spread on his lips.

Seeing his smile, the Long Coat snapped. He threw him against the wall, one hand on his throat, and lifted him up. "What's there to be happy about? Huh?" His head collided with the wall, sending debris down his back. He saw stars. He could already feel unconsciousness grabbing for him with greedy hands, when his instincts kicked in. His smile broadened.

He rammed his knee into the other's groin. The grip around his neck loosened, and he slithered out of it. The kick was supposed to send the man crumbled to the ground, writhing in pain. But he was tougher than expected - or maybe just too mad to realize the pain. He only breathed heavily, and recovered too soon for Glitch to get away.

Strong hands grabbed his coat and threw him across the room into the opposite wall. He crashed into it, and chunks that his impact had broken off the wall rained down on him. He coughed for air and shook his head to clear the dizziness. He had to get back up. The other was already coming for him again.

He got to his feet just in time to avoid a heavy boot coming down on his head. Glitch used the opportunity, while the other still tried to regain his balance after stomping into nothing but thin air, and swept his feet out from under him. He landed heavily on his back, but rolled around and was back up before Glitch could land a second blow. He was a worthy opponent. Glitch had to give him his due.

They circled each other, waiting for an opening. For a second, Glitch lowered his guard. The Long Coat fell for it and came at him. He realized his mistake too late. Glitch used his momentum against him and levered him out, pinning him to the ground after a shoulder throw. A final blow with his elbow to the other's solar plexus took his breath away. He lay unconscious.

* * *

Glitch sat next to the unmoving body, breathing heavily. He only wanted to rest. But he knew he didn't have much time. Their fight had caused a big ruckus, and the other guards would sure be alarmed by now. He had to get out of here, before they arrived. Frantically, he searched the other's pockets for the keys. But before he could find them, he could hear steps and voices coming towards his cell.

He hid in a dark corner next to the door, holding his breath. There were two of them in the hall. Maybe he could surprise attack and take them out. Then his escape way would be free. The key turned and the door flew open. The first guard stormed in, weapon at the ready, and stopped short in his tracks, when he found his commander unconscious on the floor. Glitch used his momentary confusion to come out of his cover and slam his forearm into the guard's throat, knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground.

But the second guard had meanwhile snuck into the room and now came at Glitch from behind, grabbing his coat to restrict him. Glitch shrugged out of his coat and whirled around, using it to sling it around the other's neck and pulled. The guard's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed with a gurgling sound.

"Thanks for opening the door for me." Glitch patted his cheek, unwound his coat from the man's neck and put it back on. He checked the hall for further guards, then snuck out and pulled the door shut behind him. He hid in the deep shadows, as he searched his way to an exit. It was oddly quiet. No one was to be seen. Even the other cells were empty.

* * *

Then he turned a corner and saw five guards in front of him. He should've brought a gun and maybe disguised himself in one of their uniforms. But he hadn't even thought of that. 'If I only had a brain,' he cursed inwardly. He needed a plan, if he wanted to get past them. Without a brain, he wasn't good at making plans, though.

And so he did what he was best at: he acted on impulse. He didn't waste a single thought on how stupid his not-plan was. He just dashed out of his hideout and right into their middle. Before they could even realize it was the escaped prisoner, a whirlwind of kicking legs and lashing arms was striking at them. When he ceased his attack, three of them were down - still two to go. The first one came for him, arms outstretched to capture him. But Glitch only hunched down a little and jumped up to headbutt right into his chin. That sent him flying backwards. By the time he hit the ground, he was out cold.

Glitch heard a sound behind him. He flew around to see the second Long Coat had drawn his weapon. Glitch's body reacted instinctively. He bent backwards, throwing his legs up into a handspring. He kicked the weapon out of the perplexed man's hand. Glitch got back to his feet and whirled around, kicking the guard hard in the chest. He crashed into a wall and passed out.

All the guards were lying in heaps around Glitch. Suddenly, it was very quiet in the tunnels. This time, he had the state of mind to grab one of the guns, before he hurried off down the hall towards the light he could see at the end of it. That had to be the exit. Maybe he was lucky enough to make it there, without running into any more Long Coats. So far he had beaten them without greater problems. But he was growing tired. His breath was hitching and his body felt heavy. He stumbled down the dark corridor, until suddenly he heard a sound ahead of him. The steps came towards him. He hid in an alcove and waited for the steps to come closer.

* * *

The hoof prints ended in front of a cave. Jim hid in the bushes and observed the cave for any movement. Everything was quiet. There was but one guard. The uniform gave him away as a Long Coat, just as Jim had suspected. He hadn't seen them before he passed out. But who else would be after Glitch?

Something was definitely off here, though. Were there only the two men who had captured Glitch here? He had been prepared to go against a whole unit. This cave, hidden deeply in the forest, didn't fit Glitch's stories of the Long Coats being the authorities around here either. He had estimated to be led to some police headquarter or maybe a prison. This place looked more like the hideout of some fugitives.

That would confirm his earlier theory. The Long Coats were nothing but rogue thugs. They had probably been defeated by the Tin Men in some period Glitch couldn't remember. He had been running from the wrong party all along, not even noticing the difference. And now those lowlifes had taken Glitch. Jim could only hope he was alright.

In the undergrowth, he found a thick bough, the perfect club. The captain steeled his nerve and quietly approached the entrance. The guard leaned against a rock, his eyes half closed. He didn't even see it coming, as the club rushed onto his head, felling him. Jim quickly took his gun and shrugged into his uniform coat. Then he carefully headed into the cave.

He had already made it pretty far into the tunnels and still there was no one to be seen. Jim didn't like this. His nerves were singing with tension. In the dim light he could barely see. There was a rustle. He readied his gun and took a few careful steps forward. Again, there was a sound to his right. He turned in that direction.

And heard a cock clicking behind him. "Drop that!" a familiar voice said.

"Glitch!" he exclaimed, dropping the gun just to be on the safe side. He couldn't know whether the scatterbrain would recognize him. Slowly, he turned around.

"Jim?" the other asked astounded, "I thought you were dead!" He flung his arms around him, hitting the concussion on Jim's head.

Jim flinched, withdrawing from the embrace. "Nah, I'm fine. Just a little bruised." He rubbed his still pounding head. "What about you?" He examined him as closely as possible in the sparse light, tenderly brushing some dust and debris out of the messy curls.

"Same here," he answered cheerfully, "just some scratches."

"I came to rescue you… But apparently, you don't need a knight to safe you," Jim laughed.

"Aww, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But I don't need a hero. I'm a hero myself, you know…," he beamed. He wanted to tell Jim the great news of what he had learned about himself.

But the captain cut him short, "I know you are. But we should really get out of here."

Suddenly, there were steps running toward them. "Sounds like we're getting company," Jim remarked.

Glitch grinned at him, adrenaline and fighting spirit still running through his system, "You ready? I lead, you follow."

And off he was, dancing off in the direction the steps came from. Jim could only go after him.

Ten grim looking Long Coats awaited them. But Jim and Glitch made a great team. They got each other's back, complementing each other like they had been fighting together for years. The guards had no chance against them. Within minutes, unconscious bodies were piling all around them.

Jim shrugged out of the borrowed coat. Even though his uniform shirt was supposed to be temperature regulating he was sweating from the exercise. He observed their work impressed.

Glitch was doubled over, breathing heavily. He followed Jim's gaze. "I still don't know how I'm doing this," he panted.

"You're a well of mysteries, Glitch," Jim laughed. From the corner of his eye, he saw the first of the guards stirring. He was still unconscious, but it wouldn't take much longer for him to come to. "We better get moving. I really don't feel like staying for a second round."

"I can't. I'm so tired I can't take another step," Glitch whined, still huffing.

"Come on, you hero!" Jim took his hand and pulled him along, as he hurried for the exit. Glitch wanted to protest, but didn't have the air to speak. It was already hard enough to keep up with Jim's pace. He mostly stumbled along, while the strong hand kept pulling him forward. They ran for what felt like miles to Glitch, and he briefly wondered why he didn't just pass out from exhaustion.

Still, he had to admit he liked the feeling of this strong warm hand holding his. For the moment, he could even forget he actually wished it was Cain's hand he was holding. Jim had come for him. He had tried to rescue him. Of course, he didn't need the help. But the gesture was still sweet.

* * *

Finally, they reached a meadow and collapsed in the cool shadow of a tree side by side. They were panting heavily and neither had let go of the other's hand. Glitch closed his eyes against the dizziness. He only wanted to sleep for the next annual.

Until he felt Jim shift next to him. He could feel his body heat, as the blonde bent over him, kissing him ever so tenderly. Soft fingers caressed his face. Glitch knew this was wrong in so many ways. He hoped for a glitch to end this. But then again, he didn't really want it to end. It felt just too good. He even leaned up a little to return the kiss.

The kiss lasted forever, yet was over way too soon. Glitch opened his eyes to be met with this dreamy blue gaze. He had to smile. "You know I'm the one without a brain. It's my prerogative to just go ahead and kiss people at random," he teased.

"Yeah? But I hit my head pretty hard. I'm allowed a little confusion myself," Jim returned and leaned in for another kiss. Glitch let it happen. His heart was beating like crazy. This was getting dangerous and he knew it.


	16. The Girl who leapt through Time

The Girl who leapt through Time

"Bridge to Commander Spock. We've reached our destination," Sulu's voice sounded through the intercom, interrupting Spock's futile attempt at meditation.

"Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu. I will be on the bridge momentarily," Spock returned, and got off the floor, straightening his uniform before he left the captain's quarters he had been occupying ever since Jim had disappeared.

* * *

"Have you made contact with the captain yet?" he greeted the bridge crew, when he stepped out of the lift.

"No, sir. I've tried every frequency, but I can't locate his communicator signal," Uhura reported dutifully, though her eyes betrayed her concern.

Chekov turned from the science station, where he had manned the scanners in the commander's absence. "We're scanning ze area he supposedly was beamed down to. But zere are zousands of humanoids in zis country. It's impozzible to pinpoint the keptin."

How could that be? Jim had been beamed down with his gear. They should be able to track him down effortlessly, unless… unless something had happened to him. No, that couldn't be! Not now! Spock's mind was running in circles. An unknown flash of panic clouded his reason. He acted on pure impulse. "I will beam to the surface," he called, heading for the lift, "you continue to scan the planet's surface. If you find anything, contact me immediately."

Uhura wanted to protest, but he didn't even pay her any attention. The bridge crew was left gaping after him.

* * *

Spock materialized in front of a stately palace. Immediately, the guards had surrounded him, their weapons drawn. Spock raised his hands in surrender. His phaser and communicator were confiscated. "Sorcerer!" one of them barked, "You're under arrest and will be brought before the queen. Move!" The barrel of a gun poked into his back, urging him forward.

They stopped in front of a richly engraved door that swung open upon their arrival. Spock was pushed roughly and stumbled into a throne room.

The queen raised a hand to check her guards. "Enough! Is that a way to treat a guest? Let him step forward." She smiled generously, yet, at the same time observed him closely.

Spock came up to the dais. So far everything worked according to plan. He had wanted to meet the ruler of this country, convince them he meant no harm to them, and ask for their help in finding his captain. Now he only had to find the right words.

"You're an Othersider," the queen preempted him, her lavender eyes still fixed on him. "Welcome to the land of the O.Z. We have been awaiting you."

That was unexpected. Considering these people hadn't had invented space travel yet, Spock had been prepared to make up a cover-up story of who he was and why he had come here. But apparently, they were more advanced than he had anticipated. He could risk going with the truth. "I am Spock, First Officer of the Federation starship U.S.S. Enterprise," he bowed slightly. "May I inquire why you would be expecting me?"

"Let's see. You were brought here by a kind of storm, right?" the queen returned, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. "It happens almost every time. Someone summons a travel storm," her gaze wandered to a dark haired girl standing in a corner of the room, before she returned her attention to Spock, "and some poor unknowing bystander gets drawn into it and strands here in our kingdom."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. This conversation promised to be interesting. "To be precise, we were not _brought_ here by this 'storm' as you call it. As we neared your planet, we were caught in it and swept back to the planet we originally came from."

"So this _is_ another planet?" the girl called and scurried forward excitedly. "I always thought it was some kind of parallel dimension or something."

"D.G., dear!" the queen scolded her.

"I'm sorry, mother." She lowered her head, but didn't relent. Her big blue eyes rested on Spock, curious and full of questions. She looked up at him scrutinizing. "If what you say is true, that would mean you come from Earth. But you're clearly not human."

Spock had to mentally correct himself. This conversation was not _interesting_, it was _fascinating_. "You are correct, princess. I come from the planet of Vulcan. Yet, our ship and most of her crew originate from Earth. How do you know of Earth, if I may ask?"

"I was raised on Earth until a year ago," the girl said solemnly. "I was feeling a little home sick. Only for one day, I wanted to ride my bike through the fields of Kansas again, feel the wind in my hair. But something went wrong. Instead of 21st century Earth, I ended up in the 23rd century… I didn't even recognize anything…" She had lowered her gaze and was playing with the folds of her dress nervously. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this," D.G. apologized to Spock without looking up.

"If you had asked my permission beforehand, I would have told you you have to select a time as well as a place, before you summon the storm," the queen chided her daughter, but patted her hair soothingly.

So these people could willingly create worm holes to travel through time and space? An impressive ability, Spock had to admit, and one Starfleet would sure be eager to research. This could mean entirely new ways of traveling. Still, it also held many dangers. He didn't even dare imagine what would have happened had the girl actually transported them through time. They would have been stuck in the 21st century forever. And he would never see Jim again… His chest tightened, and he had to take a second to steady himself. "It was fortunate for us that the young princess was not capable of controlling the tunnel she created properly. Otherwise we might be lost in time by now," he said calmly.

That cheered the girl up. The curious spark returned to her amazingly blue eyes, as she looked at Spock. She had so many questions she wanted to ask this alien.

Spock put a halt to that, though. He had not come here to chat. He had to find his captain…. Jim! He turned to the queen. "Your majesty, I came here on a request. Being hit by your 'storm', our captain was accidentally transferred to your planet. We have been searching the entire surface, yet are unable to detect him. I therefore came here to ask you for support in investigating his whereabouts."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. I assure you we will send out our best men to find your captain," the queen offered, then ordered, "Guard, send for Commander Cain."

Spock was sure he had his emotions under perfect control, maintaining his indifferent mask. Still, the princess seemed to sense his concern. She touched his forearm. "Don't worry. Cain's the best. He'll definitely find your friend."

* * *

The time until Cain arrived was used to hold a banquet in honor of their guest. Throughout the meal D.G. pelted Spock with question about the last 200 years, the ship and its engines, space travel, and, of course, his home planet.

Ever since it's destruction, Spock had tried to avoid talking about Vulcan. But he had to realize time had healed the deeper wounds, leaving mere scars on his _katra_. With this eager girl firing questions at him, he actually enjoyed reminiscing about his desert home. At first, he had been hesitant about answering her question about Earth and their technologies, always having the Prime Directive in mind. But he figured she might just as well create a new worm hole and learn these things right at the source, so it didn't make much of a difference to tell her. She showed an impressive understanding of mechanics.

She told him about her life back in Kansas, where she had been free to ride her bike or tinker in her foster father's workshop, always up for mischief. Apparently, she really missed the carefree life she had been leading. Listening to her reminded him of the bits and pieces Jim had rather reluctantly told him about his life back on Earth. It was impressive how little the rural areas seemed to have changed in two-hundred years.

The table was long since cleared, and everyone had retired. Only the queen was left at the table, and now she interrupted D.G., "Darling, you've been pestering our guest all night. It's late. Why don't you let him get some rest?" The girl looked at her mother dejectedly.

Spock, too, was greatly enjoying their conversation. At least it distracted him from his restlessness. He hadn't been able to sleep in days anyway. "Do not concern yourself about me, your highness. Vulcans require little rest. And I would not want to leave the princess' questions unanswered."

* * *

Cain returned to the Tin Man quarters, worn and seething. He had spent the last days searching around the area his subordinates had reported to have encountered the advisor in. And as always, he had come up with absolutely nothing. The headcase was disturbingly skillful at covering his traces. It was driving him up the wall.

A young lieutenant awaited him at the door. He saluted and handed him a telegram. "Sir, the queen has summoned you to the palace," he informed him. The telegram ordered him to report to the queen immediately. Cain rubbed his face irritated. What was the queen thinking? He was out here to search for _her_ advisor. He had no time to deal with the minor matters of the palace. What could possibly be important enough to summon him now?

Grudgingly, he mounted his horse again and off he was towards Central City.

* * *

The next day, the royal family and Spock had assembled in the throne room again. Spock and D.G. were again engrossed in conversation, when the door burst open and the Tin Man strode in, clutching the hat in his hands as if to prevent himself from drawing the gun from his holster. His aura was grim and menacing. Cain passed Spock, without even taking notice of him, and headed straight for the dais.

"Your majesty, I…," he growled unseemly.

A gesture of his queen silenced him immediately, though. She smiled at him, "Commander Cain. We're glad to see you. Have you found our dear Ambrose yet?"

"Unfortunately not, your majesty. And that's why…," he began, avoiding her enchanting lavender eyes.

Again, she interrupted him, "That is truly unfortunate… But for now, you will have to delay your search. We need your assistance in a matter of greatest urgency."

Cain clutched his hat even harder, his knuckles standing out white against his otherwise weather-beaten skin. He couldn't believe her. Glitch was her friend, too. What could possibly be more important than finding him? He was all alone out there, not knowing who he was, or whom to trust. They had to find him already, before it was too late.

"Let me introduce you to our guest, Mr. Spock of the starship Enterprise," the queen continued. "Mr. Spock, this is Wyatt Cain, Commander of the Tin Men. Our police force, as you would call it."

Cain's icy glare bore into the stranger with the pointed ears. Spock merely held his gaze, entirely unfazed. An elf? A starship? What in the Great Gale was going on here?

The queen ended their little stare-off by speaking up. "Mr. Spock here is searching for his captain. He went missing somewhere in our kingdom, and I promised him we'd send our best man," her gesture indicated Cain, "to find him."

A missing person? His men could take care of that without him. He had his own missper to find. He really didn't have the time - or the nerve - for this. All he wanted was to get out of here. He was grinding his teeth.

* * *

Cornflower blue eyes pushed into his vision, and then D.G. wrapped her hands around his clenched fists, unwinding them. She pulled him off to the side and whispered to him, "Cain… I know you're worried about Glitch and want to find him… We all do... But look at him. Spock's in the same situation as you are. He's also searching for someone dear to him."

Cain's jaw muscles relaxed minutely, as he observed the visitor. This man was supposed to be searching for a beloved person? That was hard to believe, judging from his indifferent expression. Then again, the Tin Man, too, was used to hiding his emotions behind a steel mask. He could actually relate to that. It made the stranger a great deal more congenial.

And then something dawned on him. "Say that again," he rasped.

"What?" The princess looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. "You mean about him searching for someone dear…"

"No, before that, about him and me being in the same situation…" Cain could literally feel the cogs clicking in his brain, as the pieces fell together. The stranger his men had arrested, the one Glitch had freed… that could only be… "Kid, you're a genius!" He kissed her forehead and left her flat. She could only stare after him in disbelief. Cain went to Spock, searching his pockets for the draft of the stranger his men had drawn up.

He presented it to Spock, "Is this your captain?"

It was but a rough sketch. His logic told Spock it was impossible to identify somebody from it. But his heart told him it had to be Jim. And Jim had taught him on more than one occasion how important it was to listen to your gut feeling. Still, he answered carefully, "The portrayal is not exactly detailed or precise. But yes, I would dare say it does depict the Captain. Does this mean you are already acquainted with his location?" He had to focus hard to suppress the hope welling up inside his chest. Maybe this quest would be over sooner than expected.

Cain's expression darkened slightly. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. My men did apprehend him on the outskirts of the kingdom. But he escaped…"

Spock's eyebrow rose in suspicion. Judging from the way he had been welcomed, it seemed unlikely for these people to arrest Jim without a reason. "And why would Captain Kirk be arrested?"

"You have to understand the outer areas of the O.Z. are quite dangerous. The people there are especially cautious. And a man wearing clothes like you do raises suspicion. They only wanted to ask him some questions, make sure he's not dangerous," Cain tried to defend his men. He was wise enough not to say anything about the way they had treated their prisoner.

"Yet he escaped them?" That seemed even more unlikely. Jim knew very well not to offend a new species upon first contact. He would have abided by their laws and followed them, trying to explain his situation.

"It's not quite that simple, I'm afraid," the cool police man actually looked a little abashed. "He had a little help from… a friend of mine. He had… brain surgery and now he's a little confused. I can only imagine the story he might've told your captain. I've been searching for him for weeks. But I can't seem to track him down. He's pretty good at hiding…"

"Is this… friend the Ambrose you were talking about before?" Spock inquired.

"Yeah…," Cain confirmed softly.

"So… how do you intend to detect the two of them?" Spock asked.


	17. Where the Heart is

Where the Heart is

Jim had moved from his lips and was now nibbling along his jaw line up to his ear. He whispered something Glitch didn't understand at first. But the soft breath tickled on his skin deliciously, sending a shiver down his spine. Then Jim repeated what he had said, and Glitch froze.

"Spock…" He had heard the name before. Jim mumbled it in his dreams when he snuggled under Glitch's coat to protect himself from the cold night air. Glitch woke every time his firm body suddenly pressed into his own. He had been wondering about this Spock. But come morning, he had always forgotten everything about it. Now he remembered, though, and it broke the spell.

* * *

He put a hand to Jim's chest and gently pushed him away, so he could sit up. The blonde backed off, but looked at him pained and a little confused.

Glitch drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Who is Spock?" he asked directly, blinking at Jim from under his curls.

The captain blushed ever so slightly, as realization dawned on him. What had he done? What had he been thinking? Nothing, he had to admit honestly. He had simply given in to an impulse he had been trying to ignore for days. He wanted to blame it on a temporary insanity caused by his concussion, on the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. But there was something more to it. He felt attracted to this little scatterbrain with his unruly curls and the incredibly deep brown eyes. In so many ways, Glitch reminded him of Spock. And yet, he was nothing like him. Where Spock was cold, reserved – logical, Glitch was affectionate, candid and bubbly – almost too bubbly, for Jim's liking.

He had broken through Spock's defenses once, and found a passion that was quite similar to Glitch the way Glitch looked at him whenever he confused him with his Wyatt. But he wanted more of that passion he had seen in that one night they'd had. If only Spock could be a little more like Glitch… but the idea was hilarious. That would probably only happen, if Spock was on an acid trip – and did acid even have any effect on Vulcans? Or was it, like alcohol, totally harmless to them? Jim had to chuckle at the idea.

* * *

"Jim?" Glitch's confused voice drew him out of his reverie. He had completely forgotten the real thing was sitting right in front of him.

"Sorry… I was just…," Jim grinned sheepishly.

"This Spock – is he someone special to you?" Glitch asked carefully.

It took Jim a moment to answer. A tender smile on his lips, he answered dreamily, "Very special… he's like… my Cain, so to speak. He grounds me, keeps me in my head… protects me from myself…"

"Where is he now?" Glitch inquired, curious to learn more.

Jim threw his head back and blinked into the blindingly blue sky. "He's up there on our ship, hopefully trying everything to find me… He's my second-in-command, you know."

"So you're always together? That must be nice…," Glitch sighed dreamily and maybe a bit sad.

"Actually… it's complicated… _he_ is complicated…," Jim burst out.

Glitch threw him a confused look. He hadn't expected that answer. "How's that?"

"You see, he comes from a planet where people hide away their emotions. They only ever judge things by logic," Jim tried to explain.

Glitch's eyes grew even bigger. "That sounds… boring?"

The captain laughed humorlessly, "No… believe me, it's not… it's… nerve wrecking to be honest…"

Glitch was so puzzled by the turn of their conversation there were almost visible question marks dancing around his head. "But you _do_ love him, don't you?"

For a second, the question left Jim speechless. He did love Spock, there was no denying it. He had just never voiced his feelings before. He hadn't even told Spock yet. "Yeah… I do," he finally admitted softly. "I've been after him for month, until he finally relented. And all this time he'd been testing me to make sure I was serious… can you believe that? I was about to go crazy… And then I finally got him and get stranded on this goddamn planet," frustrated he threw stones into a nearby pond.

"But then why did you kiss me? I mean, you can't have hit your head hard enough to confuse me with him… from your description, we're nothing alike…" Glitch probed.

"Oh, but you are!" Jim protested, and when Glitch threw him a disbelieving look added silently, "…in a way…"

"So you have headcases like me running your ship? That explains how they managed to lose you down here…" Glitch burst out laughing.

"Watch it!" the captain chided bemusedly. "He's a genius. And so are you, from what I've seen. You only have to keep your mind together..."

"But that's not what I was talking about. I don't know myself. I mean, it's not like you look anything like him or something. It's just that whenever you start lecturing about something, your tone kinda reminds me of him… or maybe I'm just being delusional…," he shrugged helplessly and sighed, "I want to go home…"

* * *

Glitch drew closer and rubbed his back soothingly. "I'm sorry…," he whispered.

Jim blinked at him in confusion. "What for? It's not your fault I'm stuck here."

"But when they captured me, I lost your communication thingy. Now you've got no hope to ever contact your ship….," the inventor admitted, averting his eyes.

The captain rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of cloth. He unwrapped it and presented its contents to Glitch, grinning brightly. "You mean this?"

Careful not to spill any parts, the curly head took the bundle. "Where did you…?"

"I found it in the cabin, when I was searching for you. Think you can still fix it?" the captain asked, his eyes sparking with hope.

Glitch straightened proudly. "Sure thing! You just sit back and let me handle this." He was already spreading out the remaining parts on his coat and set to work, no longer paying attention to Jim.

Jim lay back and stared into the blindingly blue sky, until his eyes began to water. He desperately tried to make out any sign of his ship. He knew it was impossible to see her with the naked eye. Still, he once saw a silver flash and imagined it to be his beloved lady.

* * *

Jim must have fallen asleep somewhere along his search of the sky. Suddenly, he was awakened by a weight landing heavy on his chest, pressing the air out of him. He opened his eyes to find a giddy Glitch straddling him and bouncing excitedly. "Erm… Glitch? Haven't we been through with this?"

"Pull your mind out of the gutter, Space Cowboy," the other cuffed him in the shoulder, throwing him an exasperated look, but scrambled off him anyway. He sat on his heels, waiting impatiently for Jim to come out of his daze, bursting with tension.

When the captain eventually sat up Glitch held out his hands, exclaiming, "Ta-da!" Jim blinked at the communicator the scarecrow was thrusting into his face. Wearily, he took it and examined it closely. It looked good as new. Nothing betrayed the devastating state it had been in only hours ago.

"Does it work?" he asked cautiously.

"Try it!" Glitch beamed proudly.

He flipped the communicator open and opened a channel. The familiar static sounded from the speaker. "Kirk to Enterprise," he tried, but the static remained. He tried again, then changed the frequencies. Still, there was no change to the white noise. Disappointed, he lowered the device. He sighed heavily. Just when he was about to give up and close the communicator, though, a weak voice broke through the static. "En… er… ise. Scott… ere."

Jim jumped up, laughing. He dragged Glitch up and whirled him around. "You're a real genius!" he exclaimed, landing a smacking kiss on his cheek.

Glitch tried his best to look smug, straightening his clothes and giving Jim a stern look. He folded his arms before his chest. "Told you so!"

For better reception, the captain tried boosting his signal. "Mr. Scott, do you copy?"

"Aye, capt'n! It's sure good to hear yah voice!" he heard, clearer now.

"Same here, Mr. Scott!" Jim was laughing again.

"What happened to ya down there, lad? We've been scannin' the entire planet for ya," Scotty informed him.

"That's a long story. I'll tell you once I'm back aboard," Jim returned.

"Aye, capt'n. Lockin' onto yah coordinates. Hold on…" There was a pause and Jim could hear nervous whispering in the background. "Sir… we have a problem. We cannae scan yah gps signal."

Silence followed as the information sank in with Jim. "Any ideas how to fix that, Scotty?"

Scotty sounded rueful when he had to confess, "I'm afraid not, sir. We'll probably have to send down a landing party to find ya. Mr. Spock has already beamed to the planet surface to search for ya."

Jim's heart skipped a beat when he heard that Spock was down here on the planet with him. "Where is Mr. Spock now?" he asked full of hope.

"Last time he reported in, he was at the royal palace, conferring with the queen of this planet," came the answer.

"Alright. Delay the landing party. And tell Mr. Spock to stay right where he is. I'll come find him," Jim ordered.

"Aye, sir. But how're ya gonna find him?" Scotty sounded doubtful.

Jim smirked, looking in Glitch's direction. "Rest assured, Scotty. I already have a plan. Kirk out."

* * *

He closed his communicator and turned to Glitch who had wandered off a little during the conversation and was now scuffing at the dirt. "Glitch?" he called.

"Congrats. Looks like you're going home after all." The scatterbrain turned around, his smile looking somewhat forced.

"Yeah." The captain rubbed his head, looking at Glitch imploringly. "I still have to make it to that palace though. And I have no idea where to find it…"

"No problem! It's in Central City. I'll take you there. All we have to do is follow the Old Road," Glitch said confidently.

The captain looked at him challengingly. "So you're no longer afraid of the Long Coats catching you?"

"Let's just say my last encounter with them was enlightening," Glitch smiled meaningfully.

That earned him a quirked eyebrow. "How come?"

"First, they're no match for me! But we already knew that. And… the guy who took me told me I was a hero who helped purge the O.Z. from the Witch and her evil military dogs… I told you I was someone important," he puffed himself up.

"Never doubted it, sunshine," Jim laughed, ruffling his curls, before pushing him lightly. "You lead, I'll follow... hero."


	18. Against all odds

Against all odds

For hours now, they had been sitting around a conference table, discussing their options to find Glitch and the captain. Maps were spread all over the table, tracing Glitch's escape. Not even Spock could make out a pattern in them, or predict the direction he might be headed. He even refused to make so much as an educated guess without proper facts to support his theory. He only kept insisting on more information Cain just didn't have to offer. This guy really was no help at all. What did he have this super advanced starship for, if he couldn't even use it to track down two people?

Cain drummed his fingers nervously. They were only wasting time here. All this thinking wouldn't get them anywhere. Glitch was unpredictable, he already knew that much. He didn't need a stranger to tell him how 'illogical' he behaved. He should be out there, searching for him. Maybe he should have never followed the queen's orders to come back to Central.

This strange guy with the pointy ears was driving him up the wall. In the beginning, he had thought they could get along. Spock didn't want to display his emotions. He could relate to that. It was almost refreshing after all the time he had spent with Glitch and D.G. who couldn't have hidden their emotions, if their lives depended on it. But his stoicism was definitely going too far. How could he possibly stay this calm? This was about his captain, too. And if D.G. was right – and she had this infallible instinct about these things, after all she had known what was going on between him and the headcase long before either of them had even considered it -, they were in a relationship. If this went on, Cain swore to all the deities he knew he would shoot this guy.

* * *

Just when Cain was about to lose his patience for good, the door swung open and crashed into the wall. Cain turned around to be faced by his son and the princess. Jeb's accusing looks made his blood freeze.

"Good to see you're still alive, _Dad_," Jeb grumbled, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

"Son…," Cain tried to explain himself.

But Jeb had just gotten started and wouldn't listen to his excuses. "You always have to do things on your own, don't you? I told you I would organize a search for Glitch. But no, you had to dash out and search for him yourself. Tell me, if you trust that little in my abilities, why'd you make me your second-in-command in the first place?"

Cain felt a pang of guilt at that. He did trust his son. But that wasn't the point here. It was _his_ fault that Glitch was missing and _he_ had to find him. Though his pride would never allow him to admit to that. Instead, he held his son's gaze and returned the accusations, "Right. And your little search was such a great success!" he snarled.

"Oh, and your wild-goose search helped in what way exactly?" Jeb deadpanned. That shut his father up. Jeb was right. All the leads he had been following the past weeks had come from the search his son had organized, while he had been blindly stumbling around the wilderness, trusting purely on his instincts. Mostly, he had just been following his urge to do something, without having an actual plan. He averted his eyes, unable to meet his son's chiding glare anymore.

"Thought so," Jeb hissed.

D.G., who had been watching their bantering the entire time, cut in before they could actually restore to violence, "This time, you're not going anywhere without us, Mr. Cain." Her voice, too, had a threatening undertone as she planted herself in front of him, arms crossed. She once again wore the jeans and leather jacket she had first arrived in. She was up for another adventure. And Cain knew from experience there was no talking back to her, when she started calling him 'Mr. Cain'. "Let us help. We all want to find Glitchy." The steel in her gaze softened, almost pleading with him. He had always been weak against these eyes.

He had been defeated by two kids. He was definitely getting old. All he could do was to gesture toward the table, inviting them into their planning circle grudgingly.

* * *

All this time, Spock had been quietly sitting by, watching their little drama. In his adolescence, he'd had quite a few nasty arguments with his father himself. But never would he have dared to show such disrespect. It was almost a little awe inspiring. He was also wondering whether it had been a good idea to team up with this impatient, impulsive policeman, though. The princess had assured him, he could find anyone. Yet, from what he had heard, the man had been unsuccessfully searching for one single man for weeks. Spock could only hope it wouldn't take this long to find Jim. He was sure his sanity wouldn't last that long.

The door opened again, and the king, accompanied by a furry creature that was introduced as Raw, entered. Apparently, he, too, was a touch telepath, trying to keep his distance from the onslaught of emotions heavy in the air. They joined the group around the table. And Spock honestly wondered who exactly this man, they were searching for, was to warrant the king and the princess joining the search party.

"Great. The gang's finally complete. Let's get started," D.G. smiled.

Cain threw her a look. "And who made you boss around here, kid?"

She patted his shoulder. "I've always been the boss. You just never noticed, Cain," she joked and everyone joined her laughter. Even Cain couldn't help a small smile. Only Spock was still watching them expressionless.

The new heads brought new ideas, and it didn't take them long to formulate an actual plan. Spock and D.G. would patrol the Old Road. Cain had argued that Glitch stayed away from the main roads. But Spock insisted that Jim would be trying to make his way to a major city. And they didn't even know whether the two of them were still together. Jeb would organize a sweep of the forests. And Cain and Raw would revisit the places Glitch had been sighted and see if Raw could pick up any new clues with his telepathy. Ahamo even offered to use his balloon to search from above.

Cain looked around his friends and wondered why he hadn't relied on them in the first place. They all loved Glitch and were just as worried about him as he was. And together they had a much better chance to actually find him. He had really spent too long in solitude and forgotten how to trust in others. Glitch would probably forever hold that against him, once they had found him. If he recognized them, that was. They still couldn't be sure about that.

* * *

The plan was almost set, when Spock's communicator chimed, indicating an incoming call. He flipped it open. "Spock here."

"Mr. Spock, we've just made contact with the captain," Scotty's excited voice sounded from the speaker. Silence fell over the room as everyone listened in on the conversation expectantly.

Spock had to focus hard not to show the relief that welled up in him. "Is he alright? Have you beamed him aboard yet?"

"He's fine… There's just this teensy problem with beamin' him up…," Scotty stopped mid-sentence.

Spock felt his patience wearing thin. He had been patient for 10.2 days now. It was enough. He only wanted his Jim back. "Mr. Scott, would you please be more specific about this problem?" he ordered.

"We're not entirely sure. Must be some problem with the trackin' system in his communicator. We just cannae register his coordinates," Scotty explained. Spock clutched the communicator harder. So they were back to square one. Jim was somewhere on the planet, and they had no clue where. After all he would have to rely on the people from the planet to find Jim.

D.G. stepped up from behind him and put a reassuring hand on his wrist. "We'll find him," she whispered, as if she had read his thoughts. This girl was truly fascinating. His fist relaxed marginally.

Scotty's voice came again, "But the capt'n said he was headin' for your position and you should await him there."

He was supposed to just stay put? Anger flared up in Spock. He had done nothing but idly sitting around, worrying for days. He was tired of waiting. He would have none of that. He slammed the communicator shut and dialed up the frequency Scotty had sent him. "Spock to Captain Kirk." He tried to keep his voice calm.

"Spock!" Jim's cheerful response sounded clearly from the communicator. "It's so good to hear your voice!"

The moment he heard his captain's voice, Spock's anger deflagrated in a cloud of relief. How he had missed to hear this voice. A bright smile threatened to spread on his face. He met D.G.'s dark blue eyes, reflecting the smile on her lips and caught himself just in time, before he could return it. He would _not_ have an overly human outburst of emotion. He straightened visibly and answered stiffly, "Captain. I am glad to find you well."

"Aww, Spock, come on! Is that a way to greet your lost darling," Jim teased him.

Spock could feel the tips of his ears burn as they blushed a light green. He carefully looked around, only to find everyone in the room listening closely. "Captain, I…," he tried to remedy the situation.

But Jim wasn't done with him just yet. He had missed their bickering for way too long, and cut in, a laugh evident in his tone, "I'm just being a tight-lipped Vulcan again. I get it, Spock. Just indulge me a little, please…"

Cain, not being a fan of public displays of affection either, could all too well understand Spock's predicament. He interrupted before the situation could get any worse, "Ask him if Glitch's with him."

* * *

"Cain!" Glitch's bubbly voice chimed out of the speaker.

His heart nearly stopped when he finally heard that voice again, and his relief got the better of him. "Sweetheart! You alright? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Aww, that's soo sweet of you, Tin Man," Glitch trilled, "but you should know there's no need to worry about me. I can take great care of myself!"

"Sure you can, headcase." Cain had to laugh despite himself, remembering all his poor subordinates who were misfortunate enough to cross his path. "I've seen how well you can watch out for yourself. Headcase, where exactly are you right now?"

"We're on the Old Road, on our way to Central City… I think… Cain… I have no idea where we are…" Confusion had taken a hold of Glitch once more.

Cain sighed. "Stay right where you are! I'll come and get you."

"No, Cain," Glitch pouted, "I can do this myself! I told you I can take care of myself…"

"I know, I know," Cain relented. It was no use arguing with Glitch when he had decided to be a stubborn brat. "Just make sure you stay on the Old Road. And now, give me the captain…"

"No!" Glitch yelled. "You're only gonna tell him strange things about me."

Great! Cain rolled his eyes and sighed elaborately. Glitch really was in one of his overly childish moods. "Listen, Sweetheart, I won't tell him anything. Just let me talk to him."

Faintly he could hear the captain's voice, "Come on, Glitch, what could he possibly tell me I haven't figured out myself yet?" There was a soft rustling, as if they were wrestling for the device. Then Cain heard hurried steps and again the captain's voice, more distant this time, "Come back here, Glitch. This isn't funny anymore. Give my communicator back!"

"Come and get it, if you dare," Glitch returned, louder. Cain could imagine him dancing around the captain, his fists raised, ready for a fight.

A tackling sound thundered through the speaker, and then the captain spoke again, slightly out of breath, "Mr. Cain…" There was not a single sound coming from Glitch.

* * *

"I hope he's alright…," Cain laughed.

"Perfectly fine. He's just sulking. I might sport a shiner by tomorrow though," Jim replied, joining in the laughter.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know he can be quite a handful. But would you please take care of him anyway?" Cain had suddenly grown serious again.

"I heard that!" Glitch's threatening protest sounded from a distance.

"I'll do my best," Jim promised. "Would you let me talk to Mr. Spock now?"

"Captain." Spock's voice still sounded so cold it made Jim's heart hurt.

"Hey…," he said softly, "look, there's so much on my mind I want to tell you. But I know this isn't the time nor the place, so… just wait for me. I'll be with you as fast as I can. I promise…"

"Jim…," Spock's tone too had softened marginally, "be careful."

"I always am," Jim answered, not even half-serious. They both knew about his tendency of getting himself into trouble, and the current mess only proofed that. He could almost hear Spock raising one of his trademark eyebrows of disbelief. "Kirk out," he said smiling and closed the communicator.


	19. The Reunion

The Reunion

After talking to Spock and Cain, Jim and Glitch had made good process. Hearing their voices had clearly spurred them on to make it to Central City as fast as they could. When night fell, they were so exhausted they just collapsed into a haystack and were dead to the world. As had become his habit, Jim in his sleep snuggled close to Glitch for warmth.

When he woke up, though, something was different. So far, he had always been the first one to wake up. And when Glitch came to, he would remind him who he was before the scatterbrain could panic. This morning, though, when he opened his eyes, he was all alone. He rubbed his eyes blearily and sat up. "Glitch?" he called tentatively.

In return, he was hit square in the head with a couple of nuts. "Oww. What the…," he grumbled, turning in the direction the projectiles were coming from. He found Glitch perched on a branch, eyeing him suspiciously. He collected more ammunition, but ceased his attack for the moment.

"There you are, sunshine," he smiled, getting up and coming closer to the tree.

"Whoever you are, stay right there!" Glitch called, raising his arm to attack again. He was confused. He had no idea what was going on or who he was, but he sure as hell wouldn't trust that stranger whose arms he had woken up in. The stranger had been sleeping peacefully and didn't seem to pose a threat. But still, one had to be careful, especially a headcase like him who couldn't tell friend from foe. Better to be safe than sorry.

Jim didn't stop, though, until he stood right underneath Glitch."Come on down, Glitch. It's me, Jim. You know me. I mean you no harm," he called up, holding his arms out.

But it was no use. There was no recognition. Glitch only started firing the nuts again. And when Jim ducked to cover his head after receiving several painful impacts, he used his chance to leap off the branch, and made a run for it.

When the captain had recovered, he followed after him. "Wait, Glitch! This is not funny," he called out of breath. Considering his short, scrawny legs, the little scarecrow was astonishingly fast. Jim had trouble keeping up.

They reached the yellow brick road. "At least he's running in the right direction," Jim thought to himself sarcastically. Every breath he took burned in his throat. This workout was definitely more than his usual morning routine. Anger welled up in him. Once he got his hands on the little punk, he would… "Glitch!" his angry voice echoed through the forest. The tiny man only sped up, looking over his shoulder to make sure his pursuer didn't come any closer.

* * *

Glitch ran into two Tin Men standing by the roadside. Every Tin Men unit in the country had received orders to post guards along the Old Road and keep an eye out for Advisor Ambrose. The order was ridiculous. Everyone knew that the advisor had gone into hiding. He surely wouldn't suddenly appear out in the open like this. But the orders had come directly from the Commander and they could do nothing but comply.

Relieved, Glitch recognized their uniforms. 'Safe!' he thought to himself, hiding behind them. "Help me! That guy's chasing me…," he panted, pointing at the captain who had dropped behind.

For a moment, the Tin Men only stared at him in disbelief. They looked like they had seen a ghost. "Advisor… Ambrose… we've been searching for you everywhere…," one of them stammered, while they frantically tried to straighten up.

By the time Jim reached them, though, they had regained their composure. They planted themselves before Jim, hands at their guns, guarding the advisor.

"Hey," Jim panted, doubling over, "I'm with him…" He pointed at the advisor.

"Right… We don't think so," the bulkier of the two officers barked, moving closer. "Why don't you explain to us what's going on here?"

"I'd love to," Jim said, still slightly out of breath. "But first, we have to set this scatterbrain straight. He's just having a fit and doesn't remember me."

"He's going to hurt me!" Glitch hid behind the second Tin Man. The man glared daggers into Jim.

"Glitch come on, look at me. It's me, Jim!" He tried to get past the officer and into Glitch's line of vision. But the bulky guy grabbed his wrist, turning his arm onto his back painfully. The captain yelped in pain.

That drew the headcase out of his stupor. Memories of this scene happening before flashed through his mind. "Jim?" He blinked in confusion.

Then he registered Jim's twisted arm and the man holding him down. With a smooth leap he landed on the Tin Man's back. His left arm wrapped around the poor man's neck, strangling him, while the other pounded into his shoulder. "Let go!" he yelled.

Finally, the officer let go of Jim and sagged to the ground, Glitch still on his back. He panted for breath and tried desperately to struggle free from Glitch's steel grip. His eyes rolled back.

The other Tin Man watched the scene nervously. He waved around his gun aimlessly, unsure what to do. He was still processing what was going on. "Get away from him!" he called insecurely, but Glitch didn't even notice him.

* * *

In the end, it was Jim who saved the man. He took Glitch's face into his hands, caressing his cheeks. "Glitch, Glitch! Look at me! It's alright. I'm alright. Let go of him," he whispered soothingly. Slowly, the headcase returned to his senses. He relaxed his arm and climbed off the hunched-over figure.

Jim took him by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "You okay? You with me?" he asked worriedly. Glitch's gaze cleared and he nodded slowly.

The Tin Man lay on the ground, drawing in raspy breaths. Glitch looked at him, paling. "Holy emerald! Jim, I nearly killed him…, I killed him…, I…" he mumbled in shock, almost running himself into the next fit.

Before that could actually happen, the captain wrapped him up in an embrace, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "It's alright. He'll be fine. Calm down. Take a deep breath."

Meanwhile, the second Tin Man had recovered. He pointed his gun at them and growled, "You two, put your hands up and don't move!" He cocked the gun for emphasis.

They both complied, raising their hands. Jim's mind was running at warp 8 to find a way out of this situation. Didn't they know who Glitch was? If only he could make these police men understand that they were under protection of the royal family.

The officer turned to his comrade, "Prior, you alright, man?" The other was still writhing on the ground, coughing, his breath labored.

While he was distracted, Jim tried to reach for his communicator to call Spock, and let him and Cain solve the misunderstanding, but the man wasn't fooled that easily. His gun pointed directly at the captain's chest. "Don't try anything funny!"

* * *

Then suddenly, a large shadow fell onto them. Jim turned to find a balloon hovering above them. It slowly descended. The nacelle landed softly on the road. "Sir Ambrose, Captain Kirk. Need a lift?" a scruffy blonde, looking like he had sprung from a 19th century adventure novel, greeted them.

Warily, Glitch took a few steps backward. "Who are you?"

At the sight, the Tin Men bowed deeply. Even Prior, still panting, had scrambled to his knees, his head lowered. "Your Highness," they whispered in awe.

Glitch looked between the Tin Men on the ground and the man in the balloon in bewilderment. "Highness? I thought the king had fled years ago…"

The king smiled, "You really don't remember much, do you, Sir Ambrose? I guess that means it's time for introductions. I am Ahamo, king consort. I've come to pick you up. The two of you are already eagerly awaited at the palace. If you please," he gestured at his nacelle invitingly. Then he turned to the Tin Men, "Thank you, gentlemen, I'm taking over from here. Dismiss."

The two travelers climbed into the nacelle, and the balloon slowly ascended.

* * *

Jim took in the scenery. "From up here, it actually does look like a beautiful country," he mumbled.

Overhearing him, Ahamo asked, "And you didn't find it beautiful when you were down there?"

The captain grimaced. "Not so much," he admitted, "From what I've seen so far, I wouldn't exactly consider it for a vacation."

That drew another laugh from the king, "I hear you experienced quite a few adventures on your little trip."

Jim returned the smile and, nodding towards the headcase, answered, "Yeah. Thanks to our little scatterbrain over here I never got bored."

* * *

Glitch had been unusually quiet. He leaned on the rim of the nacelle and watched the fields and forests fly by. He felt awfully nervous. Finally, he would go home. But what was home anyway? He only had a vague idea of the people awaiting him there.

Ahamo had told him how much D.G., Jeb, Raw, and Queen Lavender had been worrying about him. These names meant little to him, though. He did remember Princess D.G., especially her mother's grief after she had died. And then, the queen too had vanished. And now they were both supposed to be alive and waiting for him. He didn't understand. And the names Raw and Jeb didn't sound familiar at all. Who were these people?

Even of Cain he only had fragmented memories, and these were mostly emotional. It was his heart that remembered not his mind. He knew he loved Cain, but what about the Tin Man? What was their life like? Did they fight a lot? – He had a feeling they did.

His head started spinning, and he would have loved nothing better than to just jump out of the balloon and hide under those trees that passed underneath him. Before, he had wanted nothing more than to see Cain again. But now he felt scared. He was nothing but a headcase. What if he couldn't live up to their expectations? Advisor Ambrose – that sure sounded like he was a big shot. Yet, it didn't feel like him at all.

Jim nudged him, drawing him out of his panic attack. "Hey, sunshine. What's with the gloomy face? You're going home. You'll finally see your Cain again." He smiled brightly.

Glitch sighed deeply. "It's just…am I really going home? I can't trust my memories. I don't know what's real and what just a trick of my mind. Honestly, I've been following a fantasy. I don't even know these people the king has been talking about. What if I'm not what they expect? I mean I'm obviously not this Ambrose person everyone's talking about…"

The captain put an arm around his shoulder. "Now, look, you are still you. These people are your friends, your family. They will accept you and support you whether you remember them or not. And you'll see, eventually, you will remember."

The scarecrow leaned into the embrace. "I hope you're right."

* * *

The sparsely populated countryside was replaced by larger cities. And then finally the towers of the palace rose before them. Discovering them, the guards had already announced their arrival. And now everyone was gathered in the courtyard to welcome them. Glitch watched them as they came closer.

The queen was clutching Azkadelia's hand, tears glistering in her lavender eyes. As always, the princess looked slightly out of place, as she hid abashed behind her mother. Glitch froze in terror, when he recognized her. He had thought the Witch was dead, after what that Long Coat, that had captured him, had told him. And now here she was. She did seem changed, though. The powerful presence he remembered had been replaced by a shyness he recognized from when Azkadelia was a little girl. "It's alright. She's no longer possessed by the Witch," Ahamo, guessing his fears correctly, explained.

D.G. was talking to somebody. He recognized her immediately. Never would he forget those big, dark blue eyes. The little adventurous girl had used to look up to him from under her dark bangs, pleading with him to let her play in his lab, to explain his latest invention to her. That seemed so long ago, Glitch was surprised he could remember it so vividly. So she really was alive. Joy filled his heart.

The man she was talking to wore garments similar to Jim's. That had to be Spock. Glitch scrutinized him. He was tall and lean, with jet black hair and pale skin. "Very attractive," he had to admit to himself. Yet, he could also see the aloof aura Jim had been talking about. It was like he was wearing an ice armor. Or maybe they did have tin suits on his planet as well?

The stern expression actually reminded him of a certain Tin Man. Now Glitch could understand why Jim had been complaining about his coldness. He had one of those emotionless ice blocks himself. Only now did it occur to him, that Cain had been locked up in the tin suit before they had met. All this time, the time line of his memories had been completely messed up. Everything that had seemed like the present to him must in fact have happened several years back.

His eyes searched for his beloved boy scout. He found him standing a little to the side. Two men Glitch didn't recognize were with him. One was a viewer, the other a Tin Man. Then Cain looked up, and their eyes met, making Glitch's heart beat faster. He had missed his stoic Tin Man so much. But what was that? The face that greeted him wasn't the expressionless mask he had been expecting but a radiating smile. He had never seen that expression on Wyatt before – or had he? Glitch decided it didn't matter. It sure suited his boy scout, made him look younger, more attractive, if that was even possible.

* * *

He returned the smile and waved frantically. He nearly tumbled out of the nacelle, if Jim hadn't grabbed his coat in the last second. Everyone held their breaths, until the captain had safely pulled him back in.

Slowly Ahamo descended the balloon and landed softly in the courtyard. They climbed out of the balloon and started towards the waiting crowd. After a few steps, though, Glitch stopped short.

When Jim turned around to see what was keeping him, he smiled a little sadly, "I guess that means our little romantic adventure ends here." Then he flung his arms around Jim's neck and pecked him on the cheek, before running off and glomping Cain.

* * *

Jim was left behind gaping. He could only laugh at the silly scarecrow. Steps approaching him drew him out of his stupor. "Captain," Spock's cool voice greeted him.

Jim's heart sagged. That wasn't exactly the welcome he had been picturing. "Is that all I get?" He spread his arms invitingly.

Spock looked around himself warily, internally debating whether to give in to his urge to sink into those arms he had missed so much, or to keep face in front of their hosts.

"Come on, Spock. I have a feeling they already know about us anyway. And they're too busy with their own welcome to pay us any attention," Jim argued, guessing his dilemma.

The Vulcan took a careful step toward him, and his eyebrow flew up again. "Only upon condition that you explain to me why that mentally defective took the liberty to kiss you…" He had tried to keep his voice perfectly even, but Jim could have sworn he had heard a tinge of jealousy in it.

He smiled. Closing the distance between them, he grabbed Spock's head and pulled him in for a longing kiss. "Later," he whispered before their lips locked.


	20. Bath Time

Bath Time

When Glitch jumped him, Cain was torn between the joy of finally holding his scarecrow in his arms and keeping his face in front of the others. In the end though, his joy prevailed. Over the past weeks he had almost lost faith in ever seeing Glitch again. Now, he wrapped his arms tightly around him and kissed him hard, savoring his taste and his warmth. Instantly, he felt the ice that had covered his heart over the past weeks melt away. Cain swore not to himself to let go of Glitch ever again.

They had nearly forgotten the world around them. Only when D.G. coughed to catch their attention, did they break their embrace. Glitch grinned his usual goofy grin, but Cain blushed deeply, when he realized everyone had gathered around them, watching. He had never liked being the center of attention. But to be fair, he wasn't exactly the one they were interested in. Everyone wanted to greet their little runaway.

"It's my turn now," D.G. said, holding out her arms. Glitch didn't know what to do. He remembered her as the nosy little girl that used to sneak into his lab. But now she was a grown up princess. How should he address her?

When he didn't react, D.G. drew him into an embrace. "Don't you ever do that again! How dare you scare us like that?!" she scolded him softly, kissing his temple.

Glitch relaxed into her embrace. It felt warm and soothing and surprisingly familiar. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder.

Next came the queen. Her hair had greyed, but her lavender eyes still sparkled as beautifully as he remembered. Tears glistened in them. "My dear Ambrose," she whispered, her voice breaking, and wrapped him in her arms. "Everything's going to be alright now. We'll take good care of you."

Azkadellia stood behind her mother, watching their reunion shyly. Ahamo had told him she was no longer possessed by the Witch. And he had to admit, her entire presence had changed completely. Still, the sight made his blood freeze. He only wanted to run.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Cain slung his arms around Glitch's waist from behind to hold him in place. "It's alright. No one will harm you. They're all your friends," he whispered reassuringly.

Glitch leaned into his broad chest, soaking in the warm comfort. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to remember the cute little girl she had once been. Then he cautiously held out a shaky hand. "Az…"

Slowly, she approached him and took his offered hand hesitantly. Yet, she couldn't look him straight in the eye. She always felt guilty, when she saw the zipper parting his scalp, remembering the brilliant man he had once been. It was her fault he was now a headcase. She had done that to him. Everyone kept telling her not to blame herself. But she remembered giving all those horrible orders too clearly to just free herself from them. She also felt responsible for all the pain everyone had to go through over the past weeks. If she hadn't taken his brain, Ambrose wouldn't have needed that surgery and everything would have been alright. "I'm so sorry. If it hadn't been for me…," she stammered.

He didn't know where he took the courage from. But seeing her torturing herself like this, he raised his hand to lift her chin and make her look at him. "It's not your fault, sweetie pie," he smiled, his fingers stroking her cheek.

Azkadellia recognized the endearment he had used when she was younger, before she had become evil. She squeezed his hand gratefully and even returned his smile weakly, before she retreated back to her usual place behind her mother's back. Her mother patted her cheek encouragingly.

A hand fell on Glitch's shoulder. It belonged to the blonde young Tin Man he had seen with Cain from the balloon. He looked oddly familiar, but no matter how hard Glitch tried to focus, he couldn't put a name to the face. Seeing his struggle, the boy seemed disappointed. Glitch looked at him from under his curls. "I'm sorry, but…"

"I can help," the scruffy Viewer that had been with them interrupted. "I Raw, friend," he added when Glitch's eyes didn't betray any recognition. He turned to Cain for support.

"It's alright. You can trust them," he assured him, before he softly kissed his curls and backed off to make room for the Viewer.

Raw touched Glitch's temple to establish a connection between him and the boy. He felt his mind tingling and then images of family dinners and late night conversations flashed before his inner eye. He remembered: Jeb – Cain's son. The connection broke and Glitch was back to reality.

"Jeb!" he exclaimed, hugging him.

"Welcome home, scarecrow," the young Cain laughed, ruffling his curls.

* * *

The two star travelers, too, joined the group. Just as Jim had predicted, they had completely forgotten about their visitors in their joyful reunion. Now it was time for introductions. Ahamo introduced Jim to the queen and their daughters. The younger of them, D.G. he learned, gave him a look he couldn't quite place. He would have to ask Spock about her. Next came the man Glitch had linked arms with.

"You must be Cain," he said, holding out a hand, before anyone could say anything.

"And you must be Kirk," the Tin Man returned, taking the offered hand. For a few seconds they only stood there, observing each other. The resemblance was stunning. It was almost like they were catching a glimpse of themselves through time.

Glitch looked back and forth between them. "You sure you're not related somehow? Now I know why I kept mistaking you for him!" he exclaimed, touching Jim's arm. They exchanged a short guilty look, as they both remembered the results of these various mistakings.

Spock caught on immediately. His dark gaze clearly told Glitch to back off, while he stepped closer to his captain. "Are you positive that there is nothing you deem worth telling me?" he whispered.

"Later," Jim smirked. He found his Vulcan's obvious jealousy more than adorable. Once this was over he would take his time to make up for all the time they had lost, while he was stranded down here. He could barely wait to get back to the ship.

On the other side, Cain gave Glitch a stern look. He too sensed something amiss. "You thought he was me?" he asked exasperatedly. He didn't like the sound of that. His inner boy scout got the better of him. Who could know what that grinning maniac - who did _not_ resemble him… (well, maybe he resembled him just a little) - had done to his helpless innocent scarecrow, while he had stumbled through the wilderness, unable to protect him? Jealousy welled up in him.

He seized Jim by the front of his shirt, spearing him with his icy stare. "Tell me you didn't try anything funny!" he growled.

Spock was about to leap forward, nerve pinch the lunatic and get done with him. But the captain held him back, his eyes indicating him to stand down. Grinding his teeth, Spock complied.

"Wyatt!" Glitch yelped, "Let go!" He tried to pry his hand off, slapped his forearm, but to no avail.

Cain didn't release his steel grip on Jim. "I wanna know what this little punk did!"

The advisor applied another strategy. He planet himself in front of Cain, hands at his hips. "Tin Man! You really think I'm that weak? I may be a headcase, but I can still take care of myself."

That hit home. Sure enough, the scarecrow still remembered how to get him. Grudgingly Cain let go, but not without pushing Jim a little.

"Gentlemen, that's quite enough," the queen's voice cut in. "Why don't you all freshen up and then we'll hold a banquet tonight to celebrate the return of our beloved friends? Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, you and your crew are of course invited as well."

The crowd dispersed.

* * *

Before they could disappear, though, the queen took Glitch aside. "Ambrose, maybe you should first go to the hospital and have the doctors check on your head."

Cain didn't like the idea at all. In his opinion the doctors had already done more than enough. It was their fault Glitch had lost even the last bit of his memories and run off to the forests. He wouldn't allow them to do any more damage. He mumbled something that sounded awfully like "Damn doctors! They should all burn in the deadly desert!"

"You're right, your majesty," Glitch agreed, much to Cain's surprise. He had never been a friend of doctors. Noticing the look that Cain gave him, he added, "Don't look like that. Someone has to fix my head. And it's not like there's anything left to damage."

Cain relented. What else could he have done? "Do you even know where to find the hospital?" Glitch looked about himself, then shook his head in defeat. The Tin Man sighed, "Thought so… come on, I'll take you there."

* * *

"Thank you, Tin Man" Glitch kissed him on the cheek and took his arm.

Jim had intended to beam up to the ship until the party started. When he heard about the luxurious room Spock had been provided with, he changed his mind, though. He nearly drooled seeing the silk sheets on the king size bed. He already had all sorts of ideas to make good use of this bed.

But before that he needed a bath. After weeks in the wilderness with only ice-cold streams to wash up in, he felt like an animal.

The bath tub was huge. He tried to convince Spock of the advantages of sharing a nice hot bubble bath. But the Vulcan did not concede, only remarked that baths were an illogical waste of water. He really had no sense of romance whatsoever.

He wouldn't give up that easily. Sliding his arms around Spock, he pulled him flush to his chest. Nibbling on his neck, he rasped, "You sure you don't want to get in there with me?"

Spock just pushed him off, though. "You take your bath, while I report back to the ship."

Jim raised his hands in surrender. "Suit yourself," he sighed.

He sank into the hot water and closed his eyes. The water washed all the sweat and the dirt off his skin and the warmth soothed his sore muscles. He slowly drifted off to sleep.

Spock appeared in the door and placed a fresh uniform on the sink.

"Did you change your mind?" Jim mumbled half-asleep.

"I told you, you always give up too easily," Spock returned mockingly. He sat down on the floor behind Jim's head. Gently, he messaged soap into his blonde hair. Jim moaned.

Only when Spock hit the bump he had received a few days back, he hissed in pain. Spock's hands stilled. "Are you injured? Do you require the doctor's attention?" Spock asked in a worried tone.

Jim felt touched by the Vulcan's care, but preferred to play strong. "Nah, it's nothing. Just a little bruise. I got into a fight and didn't dodge when I should have. It'll heal in no time," he laughed sheepishly.

"And said fight had something to do with Sir Ambrose, I presume," Spock remarked. It wasn't a question. And from the way the pronounced the name, the captain could almost hear his eyebrow rise in displeasure.

"Don't be like that," Jim cooed. "It's not his fault. It must be hard to live without a brain. If I imagine I couldn't remember anything for the life of me – not even the people I love… I wish there was something I could do for him… Maybe Bones could help…," he mused.

"I have to admit, from a scientific point of view Sir Ambrose poses a fascinating case. A man capable of surviving without a brain is a biological paradox. I would not be averse to studying him closer," Spock stated evenly. His hands continued their message, wandering from Jim's scalp down his neck to his shoulders.

"His name is Glitch and he's not a lab rat, you know. I think he's already been through more than enough weird experiments. You may find him odd now. But I think you would've liked him when he still had his brain. He must've been a real genius."

When Spock didn't answer, Jim teased, "You're not by any chance jealous, are you?"

"Do not act beneath your intellect. Though I have to admit I am curious about the nature of your relationship to him," Spock deadpanned.

Jim had to chuckle at Spock's futile attempt to deny his jealousy. "There's nothing between us. It was really just a kiss, I swear. It didn't mean anything. No need to get jealous about it," Jim tried to placate his Vulcan, deliberately not telling him about the various other incidents during their journey. He knew better than to dig his own grave.

"As I have told you before, I am not 'jealous'," Spock nearly spat out the last word. "I am long since used to your little amorous affairs." He flipped out a razor. The captain tensed visibly, not only with fear from the sharp blade, but also because the remark hit him hard. He had been trying so bad not to get involved with anyone, though he did slip a little recently.

"I am a skilled master with the blade," Spock said, sensing his tension. "Or do you not trust me?" Jim could have sworn he heard a laugh in Spock's voice. Did he enjoy having his captain at his mercy?

With gentle and steady hands, the Vulcan began shaving him. Never before had Jim known that playing with knives could be this erotic. Fear of death and a desire to trust his first officer fought in him, making his skin oversensitive. With every stroke of the cold metal against his skin, Jim could feel his erection grow. He moaned softly under Spock's ministrations, trying hard not to writhe too much.

Suddenly, Jim turned around. Thanks to Spock's fast reflexes, he managed to get the razor out of the way, just before Jim could cut his throat. Their faces were mere inches apart. "Enough of that!" He grinned wickedly and sealed Spock's lips in a passionate kiss. "Time to try out that luxurious bed," he rasped, as he got out of the tub, dragging Spock to his feet.

"But Jim, we have to be at the banquet in less than an hour," Spock protested.

"More than enough time for a preliminary test," the captain winked, rapidly drying off. Then he grabbed the hem of Spock's shirt to drag him over to the bedroom. There he pulled the shirt off Spock and pushed him onto the soft mattress, savoring every inch of skin his hands and tongue could get to. They both knew they would never make it in time for the party. But for now, neither of them cared.

* * *

When Jim and Spock arrived at the reception hall two hours later, the party was already in full swing. The tables were loaded with food, music played, the Enterprise crew had mingled with the courtiers, and everyone was having a great time. No one seemed to have missed them.

"You're late," princess D.G. greeted them, smiling knowingly. "Glitch and Cain haven't arrived yet, either. It's no good for the guests of honor to be late for their own party," she continued her lecture.

The captain put on an innocent smile. "Forgive us, your highness. We got caught up in… our mission debriefing," he apologized.

"I'm sure you did," she laughed, sauntering off and disappearing in the crowd on the dance floor.

But Glitch and Cain were late for different reasons than what D.G. believed. Hearing that the doctors had tried to restore his brain, but that he had run away before the treatment was complete, Glitch had hoped that they could restore his memory. Yet, his visit to the hospital had been a great disappointment. The doctors had run endless neurological and psychological tests on him. All they had shown, though, he already knew. He had lost his memory, and there was absolutely nothing the doctors could do for him. All he could do now was wait and hope for any improvement.

On the way home, Glitch didn't say a single word. He only held onto Cain's hand, fearing he might get lost in the endless maze of hallways. Nothing seemed familiar – not even their home. He felt like he was intruding on a stranger. He skulked from room to room, unable to recognize anything. Still he hadn't said a single word.

Cain could only watch him worriedly. He had tried to talk to him. But it was no use. He didn't even seem to hear him, lost in his own thoughts. The Tin Man decided it would be best to just leave him alone and give him some time to readjust.

But Glitch just hid in a dark corner of the bedroom, his arms slung around his knees, his head buried in his arms. His head hurt. There had just been too many impressions, all the places and people he didn't know. And they all seemed to be expecting something from him. How could he possibly face them, if there was no hope for him to ever remember them? He wished his mind would just descent into oblivion as it usually did.

Eventually, Cain had enough. Only two hours ago everything had seemed perfect. He finally had his beloved scarecrow back, and he was as cheerful and affectionate as ever. He might not remember much, but they would deal with that. They always had. And all of their friends were there to support them. But ever since they had left the hospital, Glitch had been withdrawn and gloomy. From the beginning Cain had known it was a bad idea to take him to the doctors'. They caused nothing but trouble.

He had to draw Glitch out of his brooding, and there was only one thing that always lifted the scarecrow's spirits: a ball.

"Hey Glitchy," he said, squatting down before him on the bedroom floor, "why don't we make you pretty for the party? Wash that dirt out of your hair and find you some nice clothes." Glitch only looked at him blankly. "You wouldn't want to be late for your own party, now would you? Everybody is waiting for you," he smiled.

Glitch inclined his head. "Why do I have a feeling that's usually my line?" he finally asked, returning the smile, if maybe a little strained.

"Because it is… Now come, get up!" He stood up, holding out his hand.

Hesitantly the headcase took it, and Cain led him to the bathroom, where he peeled him out of his torn, dirty clothes. Over the past weeks, he had lost even more weight. His ribs were clearly visible and his skin was covered in bruises and scratches. Most of them probably resulted from his clumsy stumbling rather than his numerous fights, Cain mused. Still, it pained him to see his scarecrow like this. "You need to take better care of yourself," he said, stroking his hair back and kissing him on the forehead.

Then he put him in the bathtub and carefully washed the dirt out of the matted curls. The skin around the newly inserted zipper looked red and tender, and Cain took special care not to irritate it any further.

By the time he had Glitch properly dressed, they were already hopelessly late for the party. But Cain was glad to get Glitch out of his lethargy at all. He even smiled weakly.


	21. I just can't get it out of my Head

I just can't get it out of my Head

The party didn't have the intended effect on Glitch. He had briefly talked to the 'friends' he didn't remember. Yet, the conversations had been rather one-sided, since he had no idea what to say to them. They welcomed him warmheartedly and tried their hardest to make him feel comfortable. But it was no use. He just wouldn't come out of his gloomy shell and soon retreated to a dark corner. From his perch, he watched the crowd on the dance floor listlessly. He was feeling so entirely out of place. And all these people swarming around him were simply too much. It was overwhelming. Poor Glitch already began to wish he was back out in the wilderness.

When Cain saw him watching the dancers, he had even cast his own aversions aside and asked him for a dance. Nothing had ever stopped the scarecrow from dancing, not even Cain's usual grumbling and death stares. But tonight he just shook his head, claiming he was tired. The Tin Man was at his wit's end. Maybe he should just take the headcase home and put him to bed. Maybe he really was just exhausted from his long journey. And after a good night's sleep, the world would be a brighter place. He left Glitch to find D.G. and tell her they were leaving.

* * *

Bones had been the first to discover Jim and Spock, when they entered the reception hall. He came over and took Jim by the shoulders, scrutinizing him. "Good to have you back in one piece." He broke into a smile.

"Don't get sentimental, old man," the captain deadpanned.

Soon, the entire crew had gathered around them. They welcomed their captain and toasted him. He had to drink with them and tell them everything about his adventures. It didn't take long, before he felt rather tipsy, which didn't come as a surprise, considering he hadn't eaten properly in days.

He swayed off in search of some food. With a loaded plate, he went to find Spock, who had disappeared somewhere along the line, and a quite place to rest and eat. What he found instead was a depressed scatterbrain hiding in a dark corner. He stumbled over.

"Hey Glitchy, I would've never imagined you to be the wallflower type," he greeted, slurring slightly.

"Oh, I'm not – at least that's what everyone is trying to make me believe. They tell me I used to be quite the party animal. Though I clearly remember the ladies at the balls never taking much notice of me," Glitch returned, smiling weakly, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Come on, what's wrong? I thought you would be overjoyed, finally being back home with your friends and your beloved Cain," Jim prodded.

"I am… or was. I don't know. It's all just a little overwhelming. All those people I don't even know. They claim to be my friends. But I don't remember them… and I probably never will." Sadness clouded his chocolate brown eyes.

"That what the doctors said?" Jim asked sympathetically. The scatterbrain only nodded. Silence fell between them.

"Maybe I can help." The captain's features suddenly lit up. "Come on. I want you to meet someone." He got up and held out his hand. Glitch took it hesitantly.

* * *

They stopped in front of a grim looking man mumbling something about "death and disease wrapped up silent darkness" to D.G., who already regretted having asked about space travels in the first place. She was glad to see the newcomers and hurriedly excused herself.

Jim grinned. "Glitch, I want you to meet Bones. He's one of my closest friends and also happens to be my ship's doctor and the best surgeon in the entire galaxy."

Glitch was impressed. Bones though had a bad feeling, as he gave Jim a once over. He knew that expression from his captain, and it never meant anything good. He was up to something and McCoy wouldn't like it. But Jim would still convince him to agree. He always did. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Whatever you have on your mind, you better forget about it," he threatened precautiously.

"Aw, Bones, don't be like that. At least listen to what I have to say, before you rip my head off." Jim was still grinning, as he led them off to a balcony where they could talk business more quietly.

He told McCoy about Glitch's lack of a brain and the local doctors' inability to do anything for him. "But I know you can help him. You can cure anything," he finished.

All the while, Glitch had been watching the doctor out of big, hopeful eyes. It was heartbreaking and they were hard to resist. McCoy could already feel his resolve wavering, but he wouldn't give in that easily. He pulled Jim aside, out of earshot.

"Are you out of your mind? Did you hit your head or something?" he hissed. "He doesn't have a brain, you say?! I don't even know how any man is capable of living without a brain, let alone how to replace it. I haven't even heard of anything like this before. I would most likely kill him for good. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker." He was fuming.

Still Jim was grinning. He knew the gruffy doctor long enough to know exactly which buttons he had to push to get what he wanted. "You done yet? Since when do you give up that easily? You have faced more than one incurable disease and so far you've cured them all, haven't you? Just imagine it. You'd be the first surgeon in the galaxy to re-implant a brain. This would make you immortal."

Bones was quiet. Appealing to his honor as a doctor had always been his weak spot, and Jim knew that all too well and used it against him. He had never shied away from a challenge. And he had to admit the medical circumstances of this case sure proofed to be interesting. He sighed and relented. "Fine, I'll do it," he said loud enough for Glitch to hear. "It can't hurt to run a few tests. But don't get your hopes up just yet. I can't promise anything."

Suddenly, he had a bundle of Glitch hanging from his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you…," he mumbled, tears glistening in the moonlight.

"Alright, alright, but get off me!" he growled, trying to pry Glitch off. "And you wipe that smug grin off your face!" He pointed a threatening finger at Jim.

"Don't mind him. He always pretends to have a hard shell, but deep down inside, he's a real soft teddy bear," Jim whispered to Glitch.

"I know the type," he returned with a twinkle in his eye, before they fled the doctor's wrath.

* * *

When Cain returned, Glitch was gone. Panic welled up in him. Where had the scarecrow disappeared to this time? He hadn't done anything stupid, had he? In his current mood anything seemed possible. He pushed his way through the crowd of dancers. There was no trace of Glitch. No one had seen him. He was about to form a search party, when suddenly brown curls and a maniac grin came flying at him. "Wyatt!" Lips smashed onto his in a painful kiss, teeth clicking.

He disentangled the arms and legs from his torso and put Glitch on the ground, steadying him by the shoulders. "Slow down, scarecrow. What happened?"

In a most convoluted way Glitch told him about the space doctor, the words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

Cain only frowned. He couldn't exactly join in the excitement. The O. doctors had made great promises about Glitch's recovery and kept none of them. He had sworn to keep Glitch away from anymore weird experiments. Why should he now trust a doctor who belonged to this strange crowd of space gypsies?

But Glitch's enthusiasm was unstoppable. Finally he showed the radiating smile Cain had missed so much. He dragged Cain to the dance floor. "Didn't you say you wanted to dance, Tin Man?"

For once, Cain let him have his way. He was powerless against the headcase's smile, and he was glad to have it back. For now, that was all that mattered to him. He buried his face in the brown curls, nuzzling them, and deeply inhaled the familiar smell of cinnamon and apples he had missed for so long.

He would enjoy the night and worry about the doctor tomorrow – shooting him, if necessary. He wouldn't take any more risks.

* * *

The next morning, they all gathered in McCoy's makeshift office. Jim had made himself comfortable on a desk, watching the scene bemusedly. Bones had beamed down all the instruments he needed, and Spock and he were busy calibrating them.

Glitch sat on the examination table, giddy with excitement. He could barely sit still. All those machines with their blinking lights peaked his curiosity. He wanted to know how they worked. But no one had answered any of his questions yet. The doctor had only given him a stern look, when he had tried to touch some of the buttons. Still, he had to admit these machines also made him a little nervous. He wondered what to expect. They wouldn't hurt him, now would they?

Cain leaned against the wall, watching them closely. Against Glitch's complaints, he had his holster strapped on. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. This time he was prepared. If that quack tried anything funny, he would shoot him. He had his arms folded before his chest, glaring at the doctor menacingly.

Bones started by running his tricorder over Glitch. The procedure was tedious, though, since Glitch refused to sit still. His eyes followed the blinking lights of the scanner like a child trying to catch a firefly. He giggled constantly, claiming the scannings tickled him. McCoy tried to explain to him, that was entirely impossible, since the rays emitted were immaterial, but Glitch insisted on it.

When the preliminary scans were complete, the doctor had Glitch lie down on the examination table and fastened his head to the table, installing the cortical scanner on his forehead. The headcase tensed visibly. His eyes went cross in the attempt to get a glimpse of the device. Memories flashed through his mind:

_He was strapped to a cold metal table, the doctors in their rubber coats bent over him, laughing manically. From the distance he heard Azkadellia's voice, "Last chance, Ambrose. Give me what I want and we can all live happily ever after. I really don't want to hurt you, dear old friend." _

"_Never!" he screamed, struggling against his bonds, the leather cutting into his flesh. _

"_As you wish… Open his head!" Azkadellia ordered._

Glitch writhed on the table. He only wanted to get out of here. What had he been thinking? Those butchers were all the same. They got a kick out of tormenting others. He laughed nervously, trying in vain to hide his panic. "Thank you, doctor. I'm already feeling a lot better."

He tried to get up, but the straps held him down. "Relax. We haven't even started yet. I'm only taking pictures of your head. Without them, I can't help you. This won't hurt a bit. You won't even feel anything," the doctor tried to calm him.

Sensing danger, Cain had left his sentry by the wall, and now hovered at the foot of the bed. His hand rested on his gun, ready to draw, if the doctor made so much as one false move. This time he would protect his scarecrow, no matter what. No one would hurt him ever again.

Alarmed, the captain stepped in. "Mr. Cain, maybe you should better wait outside," he said firmly, his tone not allowing any back talk. He laid a hand over Cain's to prevent him from drawing. "I assure you, no one's gonna hurt him. I will personally make sure of that."

For a moment, the Tin Man fought with himself. He could just overwhelm Kirk. The boy was no match for him. But Spock would definitely pose a problem. He could sense the brute strength hiding behind that calm demeanor. And he had to admit, they hadn't done anything to hurt Glitch - yet. He was only understandably frightened. Cain had promised to stay with him throughout the procedure and keep an eye on him.

"Wyatt?!" he heard Glitch's pleading voice, shaking with fear. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Slowly, he handed his gun over to Kirk. "Listen, I promise I will sit quietly in a corner and not move an inch. Just let me stay here. He needs me. Can't you see he's terrified?" he pleaded.

McCoy nodded. Someone had to calm his patient. In the state he was currently in, he couldn't even finish his examination. Jim stepped aside and let him pass. Cain took Glitch's trembling hand. "Hey sweetheart. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I won't allow anyone to hurt you." He kissed the fragile hand, and slowly the trembling subsided.

"Okay," Glitch whispered and closed his eyes, silent tears running out of the corners of his tightly shut eyes. Cain wiped them away and whispered sweet nothings to Glitch, while the doctor continued with his examination.

* * *

The scans were complete, and Spock and McCoy huddled over the read-outs. "I just don't get it! This shouldn't even be possible! None of these readings make any sense," Bones mumbled under his breath.

"Fascinating. He does not show any motoric or neurological deficiencies. Only his memory seems to be affected. This would mean that his synapses have found a way to bypass his nonexistent brain entirely. This is an evolutionary exceptionalism. I would suggest further tests, stimulating his nervous system artificially," Spock mused, engrossed in the data.

Glitch paled. He and Cain exchanged a worried look. They didn't understand a single word of what Spock had said, but it sure didn't sound good.

"Spock, not helping!" Bones chided, rolling his eyes. Spock would have made for a horrible doctor. He completely lacked any bedside manners. He had to get him out of here, before he could really freak out his patient.

"I can't make anything from these figures. I need more information. Are there any records of the previous operations?" he asked.

"The hospital should have his medical record. I'll go and get it," Cain offered, letting go off Glitch's hand.

"No! Don't go! Please…" Glitch looked at him out of big, moist eyes, holding his hand out.

"Why don't you stay here with our scatterbrain," Jim offered, "and Spock and I will see what we can do about these records. Come on, Spock. There's nothing we can do here anyway."

He dragged him off, whispering, "And you're scaring the poor guy to death with your freak experiments."

* * *

For two days straight Bones locked himself up in his office, studying the enormous amount of data on the procedure of de-braining that had piled up over the decades. There were no documents, though, on a successful re-implantation. And judging from the reports, the last attempt to re-implant Glitch's brain had gone awfully wrong. The medical standards on this planet were so primitive, it made his skin crawl. He would have to scrape up all his knowledge, if this operation was supposed to be a success.


	22. After Dark

After Dark

Jim was determined to spend the time they waited for Bones to come out of this seclusion in that ridiculously huge and soft bed, doing unspeakable things to Spock. But paragon of Vulcan discipline that he was, he wouldn't hear of it. Jim was still captain of a Federation star ship after all, and he had already neglected his duties long enough. He deluged him with paperwork and reports that required his signature. Yet, he did promise Jim a reward, if he finished his work quickly. That spurred the captain on, his mind already picturing all kinds of kinky rewards. But his idea of a reward and Spock's were most likely light years apart.

The captain had just signed off on the last report and put down the data PADD, when suddenly something obscured his sight. A scarf was tied around his head, and Spock's hot breath ghosted over his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "That's a good boy," he rasped.

'Never underestimate a Vulcan,' Jim thought to himself, smiling, imagining the things that might follow.

Spock pulled him off his chair and led him in the direction of the bed. Jim felt around and found Spock's back – hot naked skin! His hand wandered downwards. Still there was no cloth obstructing his path. He swallowed hard, grabbing a nice handful of the Vulcan's ass. Spock caught his wrist, though, disengaging it from the delicious offering. "Not so fast," he scolded.

Jim wanted to protest, but thought better of it. This sure promised to get interesting. He could already feel his pants growing tight with anticipation.

The Vulcan pulled Jim's shirt over his head, careful not to remove the blindfold. Skillfully he tied a knot into the shirt, before Jim could slide out of the sleeves, securing his arms over his head. A push to his chest and Jim fell onto the soft mattress. In one swift move, Spock had removed his pants.

Warm hands wandered up his legs. Foregoing his groin entirely, the hands continued their way up his torso, caressing every inch of skin. The fingers merely ghosted over Jim skin, teasing it in a most delicious way. Spock sure took his sweet time with him. Every nerve in Jim's body screamed with arousal. He arched up to gain some skin contact. But Spock kept out of his reach. All he could sense was the faint heat emitted by the Vulcan's skin. It was driving him mad. This treatment bordered on torture. Blind and with his hands bound, he was at Spock's mercy.

"Spock…please…," he panted, unable to take anymore.

But Spock just laid a finger on his lips. "Not yet," he breathed into his ear. His tongue licked over Jim's lips, until they parted, inviting him in. Jim wrapped his tongue around the intruder, sucking hard on it, battling for the least bit of control.

Jim had probably tried every kind of sex games known to the galaxy. But always he had made sure he was the one in control. This was an entirely new experience. Never before had he succumbed to anyone like this. It was pretty damn exciting, though.

Spock's fingers traced his features, seemingly searching for something. Finding the spots he had been searching for, his fingers stilled. Jim couldn't exactly describe what happened next. Sparks formed where Spock's fingertips touched his skin, traveling along his nerves throughout his body. His whole body seemed to be on fire. He felt like he was in and outside his skin all at once. The experience was dizzying, a little frightening maybe, but that only added to the thrill.

He bucked up helplessly, hoping to make some desperately needed skin contact. Spock's weight bore down on his hips, stilling his writhing. Finally, he wrapped his hand around Jim's throbbing cock. The skin was so sensitive, his nerve endings so alert, the touch almost hurt. It was the sweetest pain he had ever felt. He was completely lost in the sensation.

Suddenly, Spock let go of him, and a moment later he was sheathed deeply in the scorching flesh of the Vulcan's body. Jim could have sworn he was melting, starting from his groin. This was the end of him. But it was the sweetest way to die, he thought hazily, before the sheer force of his arousal slowly pushed him over the edge into oblivion.

When he came to again later, he couldn't have said what exactly had happened. All he knew was this had been the best sex he had ever had. He felt so sated and spent he wondered if he could ever get out of bed again. Then again, why should he? He snuggled closer to his Vulcan and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

In another room, Glitch and Cain were having their own share of mind blowing sex, though theirs was of an entirely different nature.

Cain had been waiting for so long to have his scarecrow all to himself. But always something had come in between them. First it had been the doctors at the hospital destroying all of Glitch's hopes to ever recover from his memory loss, which had plunged the headcase right into a depression.

Next had been that starship doctor holding out the prospect of being able to re-implant his brain. Glitch had been so giddy, he had spent the rest of the night dancing. Even after the party had long since ended and the musicians had left and the servants were cleaning up, Glitch had still whirled around the dance floor, until he finally collapsed in a chair and was dead to the world. All Cain could do was carry him home and put him to bed, watching over his fitful sleep.

This morning, the doctor had made his strange examinations. Cain had no idea what exactly he had been doing. The procedures didn't seem harmful or painful in any way. Still, Glitch had been terrified. All that probing of his head had surfaced horrible memories of what the Witch and her mad scientists had done to him. The poor scarecrow had several fits, clutching Cain's hand painfully in his panic. Once they were done, he was so exhausted he was barely able to stand. Cain had to steady him, as he led him home, where he maneuvered him straight to bed.

Glitch had been sleeping peacefully all day, with Cain watching over him to make sure he was alright.

* * *

But now they were having a wonderful dinner to finally celebrate their reunion, and Glitch thankfully seemed to have forgotten about the ordeals of the day. He was back to his cheerful self, constantly throwing Cain the cheeky smiles he had missed so dearly. Everything was back to the way it was supposed to be – well, almost, since Glitch still remembered next to nothing. But they could still worry about that tomorrow. For tonight, Cain was determined to just enjoy the evening.

The wine was slowly getting to Glitch's head. His cheeks were flushed and his gaze clouded over. Cain mused it hadn't been the best idea to give him alcohol. But what was he supposed to do? Glitch was a grown man. He couldn't exactly forbid him from drinking.

He had to adopt another strategy, if he didn't want the evening to end too soon. And he had to act now. He got up and rounded the table. Taking his wine glass away, he dragged Glitch to his feet and led him over to the bed room. Glitch opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Seemingly he couldn't find the words in his befuddled mind.

Cain sat down on the bed and drew him into his lap. The lightweight snuggled closer obediently. Cain let his fingers wander under Glitch's shirt, while he lazily nibbled on the side of his neck. Glitch stiffened, unsure what to do.

"Shh. It's alright. Just relax. The rest comes naturally," Cain rasped in his ear. Glitch giggled, as Cain's breath brushed over his sensitive skin.

Glitch kept wriggling and giggling, while Cain tried to undress him. He slapped Cain's fingers and told him to stop tickling him, which slowed the whole process down tediously. Cain had a feeling this was going to be a long night, and not in the way he had imagined. He took a deep breath, determined not to give up. He had been waiting for this way too long.

Finally, he had removed all the annoying layers of cloth hiding Glitch's porcelain skin. He leaned over the tiny figure, his gaze absorbing every inch of it, memorizing every new scar that stood out brightly against the pale skin. Glitch seemed even more fragile and enticing than ever. Half mad with lust, he could barely wait to savor every last bit of him.

The headcase looked up at him in a mix of excitement and insecurity. Cain felt a pang of guilt. Was he even aware of what they were about to do? He tried his hardest to reign in his libido. "Glitch, sweetheart, you know what's gonna happen next?" he asked carefully, fearing the answer a little.

The brown curls bobbed in a nod. "I think so," Glitch mumbled timidly.

Cain had never seen him this shy and innocent before. This was just too cute to be true. Parts of him found it extremely exciting. He bit his lips to prevent himself from eating him up right on the spot. "And do you want to continue?" he asked in a strained tone.

Again, Glitch nodded meekly, his brown eyes huge in his pale face. That was too much. Something in Cain snapped. Growling, he dove in for a kiss, sucking hard on his lips, his tongue forcing its way into Glitch's mouth.

His lips wandered down Glitch's neck, following his exploring hands down his chest and belly. Again, the headcase giggled as the calloused fingers' touch tickled on his sensitive skin. Cain ignored it deliberately. And the deeper he came, the more the giggling was fortunately replaced by a soft whimpering, as Glitch gave himself up to the sensations.

Cain had barely touched his growing erection, when Glitch suddenly fell utterly silent. He seemed to have stopped breathing all together.

Worried Cain looked up, and was met with eyes that didn't recognize him. "Do I know you…?" Glitch asked timidly, the blush on his cheeks deepening, as he took in their position and the disturbing lack of cloth between them.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Cain rested his head on Glitch's chest. 'Be patient,' he ordered himself. He counted to three, before looking up again. Glitch still stared at him blankly. "It's alright, sweetheart," he mumbled, kissing his forehead right underneath the zipper.

* * *

Cain sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face, trying to regain his composure. Thin arms wrapped around him. "I'm sorry," Glitch whispered, his lips tracing the words on Cain's shoulder, "Wanna give it another try?" He laughed shyly. His fingers played lightly over Cain's abs. Deeper and deeper they wandered, until they finally enclosed Cain's member. His hands trembled slightly as he began stroking him.

Cain's head rolled back. "You better know what you're doing, sweetheart," he moaned. But Glitch was too engrossed in his new task to react. His face was screwed up in concentration. A most endearing expression, Cain thought. While Glitch's fingers sparked his lust, he drew him in for a kiss, sucking all air out of him – literally, since Glitch seemed to forget to breath. He paled.

The next moment, he screamed and pushed away from Cain. "Who are you?" he huffed, cocooning himself in the sheets.

Poor Cain was left with his throbbing erection. Frustration welled up in him. He stared at the ceiling, avoiding Glitch. He didn't trust himself what he would do, if he looked at him right now.

"Wyatt? What's wrong?" Cool hands touched his forearm.

Cain took a deep breath. This game was driving him mad. He had to take things more slowly, if he wanted Glitch to hang in there. But his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

Taking another deep breath, Cain said as softly as possible in his current condition, "Alright, listen. We'll do this nice and slow. But you have to promise me to focus, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Glitch had no idea what he was talking about. He had no memories of the previous attempts. "What…?" he tried.

But Cain's expression was desperate. "Please…," he begged, caressing the soft skin of Glitch's cheek.

Glitch only nodded. "I'll try," he whispered.

It was no use. Cain progressed in a nerve-wrackingly slow pace. He could already feel his marbles leaving him one by one. Still, it didn't take long for Glitch to be seized up by another fit.

Enough was enough. Cain gave up for good. His sanity couldn't take any more of this. Ignoring Glitch's bewildered questions, he went to the bath room and took an ice-cold shower, before he could actually give in to his instincts and strangle his headcase. I might not have been his fault, but Cain was just too frustrated right now to deal with him, without doing any bodily harm.

He spent the night on the sofa. When Glitch came into the living room to ask what had happened, he just grumbled, "Nothing! Go to bed, headcase," and pulled the blanket over his head. He only wanted to sleep, and hopefully wake up from this nightmare any time soon.


	23. If I only had a Brain - Finale

If I only had a Brain

Eventually, Bones emerged from his hermitage. Glitch and Cain waited in suspense for the results of his research. With a self-satisfied expression he announced, "I did it. I'm a genius. I found a way to re-implant his brain. Of course, there still is a certain risk to the procedure, but it's minimal. And, let's face it, with all the damage already done by these bunglers you call doctors here, it can hardly get any worse." He went on to explain the procedure in detail.

Cain listened intently to every word the doctor said. He would be damned, if he let anyone touch his headcase, before he didn't know exactly what was going to happen. Most of it he didn't understand, though. He kept interrupting McCoy with questions, until the doctor's patience was wearing thin. He tried to stare the Tin Man down into silence. Yet, this was a game he couldn't possibly win. Cain had a decade of staring the most rotten scoundrels into surrender under his belt after all. And the years spent in the solitude of the suit only added to his fierce gaze. In the end, Bones had to give in and answered every last of Cain's questions.

The patient himself didn't even pay much attention. Ever since he had heard he would get his brain back, he had been bouncing with glee. Still, snatches of words drifted to his ears, "craniotomy", "cauterize", "artificial synaptogenesis". He had no idea what these big words meant, but he sure as hell didn't like them.

All of a sudden, he went silent and withdrew into himself. Again, memories flashed through his mind, cold metal poking into his flesh, sharp tools probing his skull, the sterile smell of alcohol. Panic washed over him. He didn't want this. He had to get out of here, before they could get him. Without a word, he stormed out of the room, Cain and McCoy gaping after him. He fled down the shadowy halls of the palace, out into the sunlit gardens. "Glitch? Sweetheart!" Cain called after him, but his feet wouldn't stop moving. They carried him further and further away from that dark place where only pain awaited him.

Finally, he had to stop short to not tumble straight into one of the ponds. The Tin Man finally caught up to him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to face him. "What's gotten into you?!" he asked, slightly out of breath.

"You said you wouldn't allow anyone to hurt me!" Glitch yelled. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.

"No one's gonna hurt you. They're just trying to help," Cain said firmly.

"But they're gonna cut my head open!" the headcase screamed, tears running down his cheeks now.

Cain drew him closer and wiped the tears away. "Of course, they will, silly. How else would they get your brain back into that thick head of yours? But you'll be asleep and won't feel any of it," he said, smiling softly.

The sobbing ceased. Glitch blinked at him in confusion. "I thought they would undo the zipper and put it back in…"

Cain buried his hands in the brown curls and looked deep into his eyes, a suppressed smile playing on his features. "In all your excitement, you didn't even think about how it would be done, did you?"

Glitch tried to shake his head. But Cain was holding it still. "No," he eventually admitted meekly.

Kissing him lightly, Cain led him back to the palace. "Come on, let's go back. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"You swear?" Glitch snuggled closer.

"I swear."

* * *

Glitch stood in front of McCoy defiantly, his hands at his hips, and closing in on him enough to make the doctor shift uncomfortably. "You sure you know what you're doing?" he finally asked.

"Yes, I am," Bones grumbled. He had enough of these silly games. They didn't want his help? Fine! He wouldn't waste his time on them any longer. Even if Jim was to chew his ear off about it, he didn't care. "I'm probably the only chance you got to ever get your brain back. Your choice."

There was a pause. "Can I keep the zipper?" Glitch asked gravely. He had grown so used to it, he couldn't even imagine living without the cold metal parting his hair.

Bones took a deep breath. "No. The risk of getting an infection is way too high."

Even though he was terrified, Glitch had chosen to undergo the surgery. He lay on the operation table, trembling and whimpering. His finger dug painfully into Cain's palm, as he clawed at his hand in panic. Cain tried his hardest to calm the scarecrow. It pained his heart to see him like that. He would have loved to just grab him and take him as far away from here as possible. But he knew Glitch needed this surgery. He couldn't go on like this.

Cain would have stroked his hair, if his head hadn't already been prepared for the surgery. Instead, he had to resort to patting his chest and whispering soothing nothings to him.

"Mr. Cain, I have to ask you to leave now," McCoy cut in.

The Tin Man nodded and turned to leave, but Glitch wouldn't let go of his hand. His grip even tightened. "Don't go!" he pleaded. Cain looked at the doctor.

"Okay, you may stay until he's asleep, but then you'll have to go," Bones relented.

Glitch didn't agree with this decision, but as the anesthesia took hold of him, he didn't have the strength to protest anymore. His eyes grew small and finally the hand that had been clutching Cain's relaxed. The Tin Man kissed it quickly and carefully placed it next to the still form.

* * *

When Cain stepped out of the operation room, their friends, their family, were already waiting. He didn't pay them any attention, though, only pulled his hat deep over his eyes and left the hospital. He couldn't deal with them and their anxiety right now. He was already nervous enough himself. And he sure as hell couldn't sit tight and wait. He had been sitting around waiting for weeks now. His patience was running out.

He went to the stables and gave his horse the special treatment he had promised to her on their long journey. The work was tiring. But at least the familiar motions eased his mind and his muscles. When Nell's coat was shining in the sunslight, he leaned against the stable door satisfied. Yet, with his breath his uneasiness returned as well. It had been hours. How was the surgery progressing? Was everything going as planned?

He decided to stop by the hospital. There were no news yet, though, and the queen and Azkadellia shot a displeasing look at his sweaty, dusty appearance. He excused himself to take a quick shower.

The quick shower turned into a rather long one. He stood under the hot stream in an attempt to let the water wash away all his worries. Eventually, the warm water was spent, though, and icy needles and pins pricked his skin. Hastily, he turned off the water. Now his mind was even more alert and his body tensed.

He went the training grounds. Maybe he could find a recruit to spar with and blow off some steam. Unfortunately, the area was deserted. So, he drew his gun to do some target practice. He barely hit any targets, though. His mind was just too preoccupied.

"He's gonna be alright. McCoy's the best. He knows what he's doing," a voice behind him drew him out of his broodings. It was Kirk.

"I know," he grumbled abashedly, aiming again and missing far. He felt embarrassed to show any weakness in front of an outsider.

"Know how to shot?" he asked suddenly, holding the gun out to Kirk.

"Not with these," Jim refused to take the weapon.

Then another idea hit the Tin Man. "But you do know how to fight, don't you?" he challenged.

"I could sure show you a move or two," Kirk returned.

Within minutes they were engaged in a vicious fight. This was more than a little harmless sparring. They were serious. There was an unspoken rivalry between them. Cain still doubted Kirk's motifs toward Glitch, even though the scarecrow had assured him he hadn't done anything. He just couldn't trust this golden boy who seemed to be all smiles. And now that rivalry found its release.

They were rolling on the ground, neither of them willing to let off, when suddenly Jim's communicator chimed.

"Jim, get me that Cain guy here. We're done," Bones tired voice sounded from the speaker.

Cain was gone before Jim could even answer. He followed after him.

* * *

"What happened to you?" Bones exclaimed, taking in their appearance, as they entered the hospital.

"Where is he? I want to see him!" Cain demanded without preamble.

"No way in hell! You're not going in there looking like this. You're a walking infection. First I'm gonna patch you guys up and then you're gonna clean up. After that I might consider letting you see my patient," the doctor ordered.

"At least tell me if he's alright," Cain growled impatiently, as McCoy ran the dermal regenerator over his face and hands.

"So far, the surgery was a full success, there have been no complications," he clapped Cain's shoulder reassuringly. "He's still asleep and will be for the next two days minimum. We'll have to wait until then to know for certain. Only when he wakes, will we see whether all of his neurological and motoric abilities are intact."

Once again, Cain was perched on a chair in one of those dull, sterile hospital rooms, watching over his headcase – no, wait, he couldn't call him that anymore, if everything went well. He would have to get used to that. Three days had passed, and still Glitch hadn't stirred. Cain's already strained patience was slowly running out for good. Doctors – you just couldn't trust them. Liars, all of them! If Glitch didn't wake up, so help him the Great Gale, he would …

The door opened, and McCoy entered to check on his patient. He came by every hour to examine his vitals and check the numerous machines he was hooked up to.

The doctor nodded satisfied. "His vitals are normal. He's recovering rapidly. He should wake up soon now," he told Cain.

The Tin Man glared at him in suspicion. "How long?" he growled.

"I can't tell you when exactly. He'll come to, when he's ready," Bones answered defensively. Something about this man made his skin crawl. There was a madness hidden behind those steely eyes he didn't like at all.

"You said two days!" The chair clattered to the floor, as Cain rushed at the doctor, grabbed his shirt and pushed him against the wall.

"You have to be patient. This is a serious surgery he has to recover from. You can't rush that," McCoy said as calmly as he could. Now he got a good look at the madness he had sensed before. Cain pushed him painfully against the wall again. Stars appeared in his vision.

"Ca... in …?" a meek voice sounded behind him. Glitch looked at him in a mixture of confusion and reproach.

Cain let go of the doctor and rushed over to his bedside, taking his hands. "Hey, sweetheart … welcome back …" His voice broke. He was laughing and crying all at once. He hadn't felt this happy, this overwhelmed in … he had no idea how long, or if he had ever felt this way.

"Having a bout of boy scout syndrome again?" Glitch teased.

"Someone has to preserve order, while you lie here sleeping," the Tin Man returned.

Carefully, the doctor approached them. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But I'll have to do some tests first."

"Sure," Cain tried to regain his composure, and got up.

The test results came out perfect. Glitch's motoric nerves were responding, his cognitive abilities excellent, and his short-term memory impressive. Only his long-term memory was still a little jumbled. But Bones assured them that was only natural. It would pass with time. His memories had been messed up for so long it would take his brain a while to sort them out. Still, he had to stay at the hospital so Bones could monitor his recovery.

* * *

Cain spent as much time as possible with him. But Glitch was reasonable enough to make him pick up his duties as commander of the Tin Men again. They had been without a leader for so long, while he had been out, searching the woods. He had also informed them on the location of the Long Coat camp he and Jim had roughed up. More than twenty Long Coats had been arrested – a great success in destroying them once and for all.

Their friends visited frequently. He recognized them from the first moment they entered his room. And with every day that passed he remembered more about them.

"So do we have to call you Ambrose now?" D.G. asked.

Glitch thought about it, but didn't have an answer. He was Ambrose again with all his memories, alright, but at the same time he was also Glitch. It was like he had a split personality. But that, like his confused memories, would pass with time the doctor had guaranteed him. And comparing the two, he realized they weren't all that different after all. The main difference seemed to be that when he couldn't think and therefore overanalyze things anymore, he had lost the shyness and seriousness that had always bothered and inhibited him. He had been a boring book worm and he had always hated his life as the timid wallflower. But that would be over now. He would combine the best of his two personalities and become the person he had always wanted to be.

"Just call me whatever you want, doll," he finally said.

"I think I'll stick with Glitch then," D.G. decided. Calling him Ambrose all of a sudden would have felt like putting a distance between them that hadn't been there before.

Cain could only agree. He already had to stop calling him headcase now. Calling him also Ambrose now would feel like living with a complete stranger. He felt a little nervous about getting to know the brilliant advisor he so far only knew rumors about. Until now, he had always been mocking his little headcase about his clumsiness. Suddenly, he was so much more intelligent than him, constantly babbling about things he didn't have the least notion of - especially when he was talking to Spock. Over the past days, just like Jim had predicted, they had become quite close. They had endless discussions on astronomy, philosophy and science in general. The advisor was an equal on these subjects like Spock had rarely ever met one.

But Cain soon realized Glitch's clumsiness had little to do with his brainlessness. Being clumsy had been a natural trait of Ambrose's. He had always been a klutz, forgetting appointments and tripping over or running into things. And to be honest, Glitch had always been a smartass, only now his lectures were based on actual knowledge.

* * *

Eventually, it was time for the Enterprise crew to leave. Starfleet command was already on their case. They were long since supposed to be on their next mission. But the captain had ordered Scotty to perform some "vital repairs" to buy some more time. Before they left, he and Bones wanted to make sure Glitch was truly alright.

"So I guess that means I won't get to see your ship after all," Glitch said, when Jim said his goodbyes.

"I'm sorry. Maybe next time," Jim answered rather sheepishly.

"Does that mean you will drop by again?" The inventor looked at him doubtfully.

"We most likely will. Starfleet command has been exceptionally interested in your planet. It is possible we will be sent to perform further research," Spock cut in.

A radiating smile spread on Glitch's features. He jumped up and embraced first Jim, then Spock. The Vulcan stiffened at the sudden onslaught. And Glitch remembered what Jim had told him about his aversion toward direct contact. He backed off hurriedly and apologized.

But Jim clapped his shoulder and whispered, loud enough for Spock's sensitive ears to hear, "Don't worry 'bout it. We have to get him used to these things anyway." He grinned at Spock.

The Vulcan only raised his eyebrows, deciding not to comment on the matter, at least until they were in private.

Light engulfed the two star travelers and slowly they dissolved and disappeared.

* * *

Glitch looked after them sadly. "I'll miss them. Think they'll really come back?"

Cain sighed and wrapped his arms around the advisor. "Who knows …" He was rather glad they were finally gone. Now he had his scarecrow all to himself.

"Maybe I should build a space ship myself and follow them," Glitch mused, disengaging from the embrace.

He pulled a PADD from under his mattress that had been left when McCoy had packed and beamed up his instruments. Glitch had found and hidden it, before anyone could notice it was missing. He could barely wait to uncover all the secrets about their strange technologies the device promised to hold.

Cain rubbed his face warily. "You _are_ a convict, you know that?"

But Glitch just shrugged and threw him one of his mind-blowing smiles, and Cain let it pass.


End file.
